An Enlightened Universe
by TheButterflyComposer
Summary: The Wizarding world is crumbling, even after the events at Godric's Hollow. Dark forces lurk in the shadows, the Muggles are clawing at the gates and whispers, mere whispers of 'The Enlightened'... Fortunately for us, our heroes aren't idiots. Welcome to the Enlightened Universe. Harry Potter and his friends, as you've never seen them before. Rated M for good reason after year one.
1. Chapter 1: On past times

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP, J. K. Rowling does. **

**AEU Chapter 1**

I used to believe in magic once, that people could bend nature to their will with spells and enchantments. Then I grew up (a mistake, looking back on it all) and magic became a force relegated to the treasure chest of childhood. Recent events however have caused such thoughts to resurface in my mind, along with unimaginable fear, doubt and pain. Such things can only be the stuff of nightmares and yet...to my knowledge they were _real_. I myself witnessed some of it, and the memories and words of others shall service us further.

Ours is not the first nor the only universe in the majesty of creation. There were others, some absent of all light, filled with an empty blankness that swallows both mind and soul up in itself. I could go on about the many worlds, the many realities that I have seen, but you I think, are interested in one.

Yes, this universe is very much like the one you are familiar with, with a few exceptions. First, there was an _order_ to the construction of this one, the likes of which I have never seen. You may believe that the same is true of ours but it is not so. Everything, _everything_ that happened there happened for a reason. Secondly, theirs was a world of magic, of sorcery. Some among them could _do things_ that chilled the blood and twisted the fabric of time itself. And thirdly, and most importantly, this universe was the universe of the Enlightened, those who were above the rules of not only magic but of thought. Had they been more powerful, one might compare them to gods among men. Thankfully, this was not the case.

Well...except on one occasion. The events which shattered the walls of reality and killed many are known to me. Of course they are, I was a part of them, just as much as anyone else.

So, let us begin. It all started with a boy. A boy who, just very recently, had been through a monstrous ordeal.


	2. Chapter 2: One fatal night

**AEU Chapter 2**

Godric's Hollow was a quiet little village for the most part. The residents were a reasonable, decent sort of folk, the sort that can be found the world over. Ordinary humans going about their lives in peace, relative happiness and blissful ignorance of many matters of importance.

Some of them were different however. Harry Potter was one of them. Being a mere baby of little brain and even fewer table manners, he didn't seem to grasp the immense and tragically heroic struggle both his loving parents and their compatriots were going through.

For outside the boundary of his little world, dark forces were unleashing the horrors of war unto the land. The dark lord Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters were an unstoppable horde with their nightmarish powers and ruthless methods. The enlightened amongst the rest of humanity turned away and wept at the devastation, whilst all others wrung their hands in their gatherings and committees.

No help was coming for Magical Britain and should it fall the shroud would also, and there would be war between Muggle and Wizard once more. The fact that anyone, anywhere survived at all was down to a combination of courage, a dark lord's insanity and unbelievable amounts of luck from two young people.

Harry's eyes screwed up as the terrible green light burst through his room. His cries of discomfort mixed with the _screams_ of another. Together they shouted in pain for an instant before the other, his mother, fell into silence. The abrupt change disquieted the child, but no more than the figure, the shadow, that was stalking towards him.

Another flash through the room.

_Pain_.

The baby couldn't register much during the next few seconds but pain. He couldn't see, hear or shout out, but he knew himself to be in the most unbearable agony. Had he possessed the rest of his senses, he would have observed the other presence in the room was in the same situation, only far worse.

A long time afterwards (or was it a few minutes?), Harry Potter (not that he knew himself as that) heard something over the sound of his blood pounding. Disorientated and confused, the man's shouts were unrecognisable to the child, yet he sensed the man was a friend of some kind, in the way children do. A pair of arms lifted him from his wrecked cot and Harry found he could see again.

A woman was on the floor, lying very still beneath a section of wall. A dark piece of cloth was in shreds, scattered around the room, which was now open to the rain outside. Harry wouldn't remember this, or recognise the significance of these events for many years, but the man carrying him, judging by his sobbing, certainly understood all too well.

Albus Dumbledore took in the destroyed house in despair from outside.

He had some thinking to do.

* * *

The leaves swirled outwards due to a sudden and unexplained wind. Whilst they were settling, an old man in a ridiculously long purple cloak glided over them at with vigour surprising for one of his advanced years. Observing the street sign, he smiled and from the folds of his cloak produced THE PUTTER-OUTER (for it said so on its case) which proceeded to do just that with every lamp in the street.

It was very dark now, dark enough to hide everything that happened outside from everyone inside.

Indeed, it was too dark, as the man found out when he stubbed his toe on the low brick wall he appeared next to. Chuckling at his own mistake at being overly cautious, he took out a long thin stick from his sleeve- no, not a stick, it was crafted, cut and emanating a soft hum even as he withdrew it. Professor Albus Dumbledore, for he had finished thinking now and decided to re-join the story at large, held aloft the wand and softly illuminated the street in a small but recognisable glow. Satisfied, he approached a tawny cat who at had been watching the proceedings with both consternation and a flash of amusement.

"Professor McGonagall," he said respectfully in a whisper, inclining his head whilst continuing to display a level of caution about his person.

The cat _shifted_ in but a moment and became a serious looking woman who viewed her surroundings with something approaching disdain and fear. Or perhaps the act of sitting on a wall for hours at a time, all alone, at night, negatively impacts the tempers of some people.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said back, as the two walked slowly towards N.O 4 with a hesitation in each of their footsteps as both recognised the enormity of this day and their decision.

"I still don't understand Albus. How, why? And Harry?" McGonagall asked with trepidation, looking and sounding as though she was more fearful of answers than ignorance.

"It appears, for a few reasons, that he is alive and well. I have no proven facts about the case but my guesses in this regard shall serve us for now. Lilly Potter cast herself in front of her child. This...sacrifice saved him from the killing curse that followed, casting Voldemort from the house. He is not dead yet, Minerva, insofar as I can tell. Will he die in due course? Perhaps, but until we have conformation, we must ensure Harry's safety."

The old Headmaster of Hogwarts sighed after explaining all of this. Once he would have held onto all of these secrets and confidently assumed he was right. However the war had gone on for too long, too many people had died because of his mistakes. Perhaps he was all the better for it. Regardless, he now had to place Harry Potter into the 'care' of his relatives.

McGonagall opposed this with a furious outcry, "Albus! We cannot leave him here; they are the worst type of Muggles-"

Before Dumbledore could open his mouth to respond, she held a hand aloft to stop him, "I know, I know we cannot really have him in the wizarding world just yet. Being who he is would ruin him if he were exposed to _this_ all his life."

That had been made quite clear in the...discussion (or shouting match) Dumbledore had just 'won' with both the Minister and the war council.

She sighed. "Is this our only option?" she said softly now.

Dumbledore was stricken with self-doubt but could see little alternative, at least for now.

He didn't want to interfere with these people's minds but…perhaps a subconscious message? The Ministry had given him orders to secure Harry Potter at all costs. A mild mental suggestion along the lines of _'Do not physically harm Harry Potter'_ should suffice. Dumbledore could see the problems with this plan, the Dursleys could still starve or lock him away…he would just have to ensure Harry could be watched by one of his own. And it wasn't like he would be there for more than a week...

Yes…this could work. The headmaster's thoughts progressed in this way in such a short amount of time. McGonagall looked at him with hope as she saw his mind at work. If anyone could solve this problem, he could.

Professor Dumbledore looked up suddenly as a loud groan and a bang echoed around the street. Seconds later, a humungous motorbike with a man three times its size on it landed on the tarmac, wheels screeching in protest as the engines revved towards the waiting pair. Dumbledore's strange stick twitched and the sound that had now become a roar was muted to a soft purr.

"Hagrid," he said with a curious tint to his voice, "how did you get Sirius's bike?"

Hagrid the giant stepped down from the bike with a bundle of blankets in his arms.

"Professor Dumbledore sir, Professor McGonagall," he began, nodding to both as they nodded back, "Young Sirius Black gave his bike to me when he saw what 'appened to the house. I was going back to pick up anything of the littleun's stuff an'... He jus' checked on little Harry here then left. Poor kid…I hope he don't take this too hard," the large man began howling with sadness at this point.

"Easy, Hagrid," McGonagall said, gingerly patting his elbow.

This didn't have much of an effect. Dumbledore took the baby wrapped in the blankets and stared one last time at the large and unnatural scar slashed into his forehead, suppressing a shudder of foreboding as he did so.

"Albus, could you…do something about that?" McGonagall said, gesturing towards the bloody scar.

She saw the look he was giving to it, his patented concentrated expression. Something was not right here, she could tell.

Internally, Dumbledore was still confused as to why there was so much dark magic hidden in the mark. Surely the curse would not leave so much residue…

_Unless_…

The night had suddenly become sharp and cold and he was now wondering what on earth Voldemort was trying to accomplish. Suddenly, the monster hidden in the world was all the more threatening.

He snapped back to reality and briefly closed his eyes. The plan would continue, but now it was imperative that Harry have little contact with the wizarding world. The Ministry would tear him apart to figure out what was in his head. For a matter such as this, perhaps even the Enlightened would take an interest in this particular magic. He reassured himself that this arrangement would only last as long as...

The baby stirred in his sleep and Albus Dumbledore rapped smartly on the door. What he would say to these people, first about the situation in hand and then the immediate problem, he had no idea. He dearly wished he could simply wring his hands, leave the child on the doormat and go and get a stiff drink.

But responsibility beckoned to him in the shape of this small child, and he was loath to leave him in this state without doing everything possible to help. The door opened and he began another round of explanations.

After the silly woman had finished screaming of course.

* * *

"Well, that is all I can do for the moment," Dumbledore sighed again as he strode back to where the other professor and Hagrid were watching.

"And exactly how well did they take that Albus?" McGonagall said curiously.

The old man rubbed his left knee in thought.

"I think they'll be acceptable for a week," he said shortly.

Any longer and Dumbledore expected nothing less than crater where the house now stood.

"Hagrid, I am sure I shall see you later this week at Hogwarts. Professor" he inclined, before walking back along the street, releasing the light back into the lamps as he did so.

The warm glow seemed to change the mood somewhat. Now Dumbledore and the others were hoping beyond hope that they would not live to regret what they had done. Harry Potter shifted in his blankets in the disinfectant-coated kitchen. He had no clue as to why he was there, why the three other humanoids in the room were staring at him with such fear and disdain, or why the world he had unknowingly just saved had literally abandoned him.

* * *

His next ten years were filled with such questions, with not an answer in sight.


	3. Chapter 3: The prodigal

**AEU Chapter 3**

The air in the room was musty as Harry awoke. As he usually did when he had a nightmare, he peered around the room to ensure everything was still normal.

The dust and cobwebs caked the room, covering broken toys his cousin Dudley clung onto out of a sense of possessiveness. His old and forgotten books were nowhere near as filthy however, and the occupant of the room seemed to have preserved them with a kind of reverence rarely seen outside of museums, though they had clearly been well thumbed by somebody. The discarded and shattered gadgets, torn up games and disembowelled action figures were in sharp relief to these tomes, the reading of which appeared to be the boy's only pastime (Well, the only pastime of his own choosing). The fact that everything was still here however told Harry that he still was under the thumb of his aunt and uncle, that his life was fairly awful and that he himself would be as miserable as possible for the better part of his birthday.

Yes, it was that time of year again, a day that cruelly showed up with ruthless efficiency to laugh in his face and tell him that he had survived another there hundred and sixty five (and a bit) days at Privet Drive. Harry was long past crying over his situation but the sheer hopelessness of his life continued to get him down when he sat still. Happily in this house…

"Boy! Get up and fetch my coffee! The shareholders are coming round today and I DO NOT want to be late!"

Uncle Vernon had developed a special shouting voice for Harry that he could hold for an entire day before becoming hoarse, and with today being a particularly tense one for him, he vented his frustrations by being especially despicable to Harry. Whilst Harry duly got up to create another perfect coffee (he had made _10,894_ cups so far in his life, not that he was counting) his mind was silently soaring with the good news that his altogether nasty family would be spending the day at a meeting trying to sweet talk more money into the company.

It was, considering the events of the past month, the best birthday present he could have had. That snake 'incident' had him actually _locked in the cupboard downstairs_ for a day and it was one of the times that he had actually feared for his life. However, Uncle Vernon had returned after an hour, ordered him upstairs and left with quite a misty sheen to his eyes. Harry was very careful over the next couple of days to make sure he didn't set his quasi-abusive caretakers off. Uncle Vernon had actually been better than he usually was but the other two certainly weren't. Dudley in particular was being a complete and utter turd about the snake 'incident': it was always an 'incident' to Uncle Vernon; he would say that then gave Harry an angry look. Then again, he did that an awful lot. Whenever something strange happened, anywhere in the world, he would look at Harry as if he was personally responsible.

Although...Harry seemed to attract some pretty strange 'incidents'. Complete strangers pointing and waving at him in the street, somehow ending up on top of the school (twice) and in one memorable incident, watching as Aunt Marge's dog turned on her and tore her blouse off.

It was very befuddling, the police in particular, the ones who weren't laughing, certainly looked _befuddled_ by what happened. Of course, Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry and over the next month, he learnt the exact meaning of 'intensive spring cleaning'.

Regardless, Harry was looking forward to a Dursley-free day and had to stop himself whistling (Aunt Petunia didn't believe in whistling), as he prepared coffee and breakfast for the three rulers of his world.

He heard his Uncle checking over his new car. Uncle Vernon was often rushing out of the house to check that the 'ruddy birds hadn't sh*t on the roof' (he mentally removed the coarse language as a practice) which invariable caused a smile to form on Harry's thin face. He was short for his age, and very skinny. The Dursleys did not starve him (Harry had looked up his weight and placed himself at around the underweight but healthy-ish section) but Dudley especially thought that Harry should have less than everyone else. He bullied Harry vindictively and Harry was now especially good at running and spectacularly good at blending into the background of a room. Fighting had not yet become part of his repertoire, as Dudley had the unusual ability of being so fat that Harry felt sure a car could impact with the boy and he would merely fall over.

Well...Harry didn't quite believe that but a boy could _dream_, couldn't he? Not that he wanted his life's dream to be the violent death of his cousin but.

Although...

Harry was constantly twitching and looking around for attacks and 'pranks', which due to Dudley's special brand of intelligence was generally a painful experience. He waved them all goodbye that morning and as they drove off he allowed himself a brief smile as he observed the lilies growing in the front garden.

* * *

Mrs Figg watched the boy disappear into the house with a concerned expression. Albus had set up the charm that allowed Harry to be safe both from Vol..._He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ and his relatives, yet he had not had a happy childhood. Whilst she had never seen him injured or carrying scars, other than **THE** scar, she had often been concerned about his stunted growth and overall skinniness. Albus too was concerned but had said something akin to 'nothing to be done' and left it at that.

_'Infuriating man...'_ She thought for the umpteenth time.

All that could, and would change today. This was the first time in months Harry was un-attended and they certainly weren't going to waste this opportunity. She had informed them that the usual letter would not get through, no matter how many they sent. So the Headmaster agreed to wait for a more suitable time, or to create one if it came to it. Mrs Figg signalled her message before once again looking at the closed door of N.O. 4.

_'Poor Harry,'_ she thought. _'Who knows what will happen to you next?'_

* * *

Harry was watching the BBC News and wondering what he could do to enliven his birthday when suddenly an almighty pounding landed on the door. He leapt up electrified.

The Dursleys had come back early.

And were pounding on the door.

The Dursleys were back early from a meeting of _utmost_ importance and were violently _hitting_ a part of their property _visible to the neighbours._

Something was very wrong here.

Harry forced himself to calm down. Uncle Vernon had a key, it probably wasn't him. This reassuring thought was interrupted by another pound on the door and Harry could hear the wood groaning under the applied force. Soon it would collapse on itself and then where would he be when the Dursleys came back? Harry rushed to the door and then, with some indecision on his part, opened it to reveal…well, what he assumed to be a man.

Yet this man was at the very least twice the height of Uncle Vernon and had hands the size of dustbin lids. One was raised in a fist that Harry flinched away from until he realised that the giant man was just about to 'tap' the door again.

He had little time to be frightened however as soon as he opened the door the giant beamed and pulled him into a hug that could crush bears.

The man boomed in a deep voice, "'Ello, Harry! Been a while, hasn't it? Nice teh see yeh again."

Harry could only gasp after the man released him from the hug, which had to admit, was nice enough, if you happened to be stronger than the average bear.

"Ah, wait. I suppose y' don' remember me, eh?" The man mused, "Well, I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Corse you know all about Hogwarts," he enthused greatly.

Harry was incredibly confused by all of this. What was this Hogwarts?

Scratch that.

Who was this man who claimed to know him, violently forced his way into the house and then hugged him tightly to his chest?

"Sorry, no," Harry began cautiously.

"No? Did yeh not wonder where your mum and dad _learnt_ it all?" the man called Hagrid said incredulously.

Then understanding dawned on him and he looked shocked, sad and a little angry.

"Argh…Dumbledore warned me 'bout these Muggles might-"

"Muggles?" Harry asked,

"Non-magic folk, an' they're trying to stop people sayin' that word now," Hagrid replied, "bit insulting in our world. Well, blimey Harry! I thought they might have told yeh _something_ about who yeh are but…guess not. Right then. Harry, you're a wizard."

He paused for a moment because Harry was gaping at him in shock. A wizard? A…what? Was it possible? Even though the sentence Hagrid had just spoken was nonsense…Harry could not help believing it. It felt right.

'_No, that's not correct. This is lunacy on a grand scale and buying into it now will only hurt us later,_' Harry thought to himself.

"Really?" he asked softly.

Hagrid was watching him sadly, "Yeh, and I _presume_ [he said that with an air of unfamiliarity] yeh don't know anythin' about yeh parents either?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, there was this wizard…not all of us are good y' know. An' he was as bad as you can get. He killed your parents...well, he killed a lot of people really. It was a war and we were losin'. Only man that kept us from going under was Dumbledore and some brave people that followed him. An' the Muggles...beg pardon, the non-magic lot, I suppose. He's the headmaster, Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's a place to teach you all about the world and about magic. I got a letter here teh invite you teh enter."

Hagrid finished his statement and began fumbling through his pockets, presumably for the letter. Harry's head was racing with the new knowledge.

His parents had been murdered.

He felt an icy chill when he thought about that. The green light in his dreams held a new meaning now…

He was going to a _Wizard_ school?

That could be good or bad. Could it be worse than the Dursleys? This man had shown more kindness in the last five minutes than they had ever done…

Harry motioned for Hagrid to come in to the sitting room.

"Ta, Harry," he said, still routing through his massive coat.

Harry was amused when a couple of mice fell out and scattered towards the kitchen. He would love to see Aunt Petunia's face when she found the mouse holes. Hagrid had found the letter and was now, somehow, cooking sausage in the living room.

He passed the letter over to Harry before slapping a giant hand to his forehead and exclaiming, "Oh wait! I forgot to give yeh this!"

And he dug out a box that held within a delightful looking cake to the hungry Harry.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" Hagrid said, giving him the sausages on a plate as well as the letter.

'_So, strange man at the door, talking and hugging a child and offering him sweets and telling him about magic,_' Harry thought.

What on earth could possibly go wrong?

* * *

The next ten minutes were spent explaining more questions Harry had about Hogwarts, with Hagrid answering them as best he could but also saying that Hogwarts had encountered this sort of thing before with Muggle-born students, "That's magic folk born from non-magic. Pretty strange stuff but it'll all be explained in this here prep-pack."

Harry was told about the Ministry of Magic, given a brief History of Wizards in Great Britain in which he was surprised to learn Merlin was real(-ish) and that wizards were keeping themselves and magic secret from the outside world for their own safety. He also learnt more about Muggle-borns, Pure-bloods and other aspects of wizarding society from the pack and from Hagrid's own inputs.

"It's all tosh Harry," Hagrid explained when they got onto the topic of bloodlines, "jus' another way some people can feel all superior 'bout themselves. That war I mentioned? Well, You-Know-Who weren't no Pure-blood an' they all followed him. Rotgut."

Harry read through the letter again, Hagrid having sent off the owl telling this Professor McGonagall he would be attending in September. He was beginning to feel excited about the whole thing, particularly when the Dursleys came back to find a giant in the living room doing magic tricks. The resulting conversation lasted two minutes and ended with a fair bit off squealing from both Uncle Vernon and Dudley, whom now had a pig's tail. Hagrid told them he was taking Harry out for a bit and they threatened him before running away from the giant's stare of fury and barricading themselves in the upstairs toilet.

"Don't worry Harry," Hagrid reassured him, "Dumbledore'll set those codgers straight, you see if he don't."

Harry blinked. Suddenly they were in a place that looked suspiciously like London...and he felt like he had been kicked, by a horse, in his plums.

Hagrid looked down at him apologetically.

"Sorry 'bout that Harry, but Dumbledore gave me special permission ten take you out for supplies."

Harry was still confused by the sudden departure. That and the lack of oxygen owing to it having been forced out of his body.

"Hagrid, what did you just do?" he gasped, trying to recover some lost breath.

"Oh, well I er…well don't tell no one but I used a bit of magic to get us here a bit faster. Dumbledore's been teaching me apparition yeh see an'… oh yeah, apparition is like…appearing an' disappearing between places," Hagrid explained.

More than that, Harry could not gather from him.

It was a curious experience this 'apparition', quite unpleasant and very but strange. He tingled with static electricity and he discharged on a metal sign on the street.

"Hagrid, where are we going?" he asked. Hagrid moved on ahead towards a shabby pub with a sign above the door that said: 'The Leaky Cauldron.'


	4. Chapter 4: Secret street

**AEU Chapter 4**

To say Harry was shocked by the reaction he caused in the pub would be an understatement. To be fair, he thought later, it was only to be expected when the Messianic Archetype of a whole culture suddenly reappears in a bar but still…

He was greeted with a loud cheer before everyone at the bar and sat at the tables, including the landlord himself, leapt at the chance to shake his hand. Hagrid was beaming around at the positive reaction but was also keeping an eye out to ensure Harry wasn't swamped by the crowd.

Harry himself was overloaded with information on and from people: who they were, the surprisingly familiar smell of beer emanating from behind the bar and the bad lighting meant people quite literally appeared unnoticed right in front of him. He remembered only one person of note, a twitchy man who seemed as uncomfortable as he was who shook himself as he shook Harry's hand.

Professor Quirrell certainly didn't look up for the job of Defence against the Dark Arts teacher although, Harry mused, perhaps all fighters in the wizarding world were like that so soon after a large conflict. Or they hadn't heard about PTSD yet.

Hagrid eventually caught Harry's eye and led him out, beating back the crowd to let him pass. He cast a sympathetic eye down on the small eleven year old. The entire wizarding world wanted to meet him and now, now he will simply have to get used to it, at Hogwarts at the very least. The giant was no stranger to rude points or staring but at least _he_ was imposing and naturally friendly. People couldn't help but like him. This boy however was going to need help to settle in.

Hagrid shook his head. Dumbledore may have consigned Harry to ten years with the daft Muggles but at least Harry didn't have to deal with The Daily Prophet taking pictures of him every week of his life. Harry meanwhile, was beginning to understand exactly what an ordeal he would have to go through in order to prove himself as a person, not as a figure head or as an event. He stared up at Hagrid.

_He _didn't seem to view Harry as a celebrity…although to be fair he hadn't known him so very long.

They paused at a brick wall that was chipped and aged but stood up straight compared to the building he had just left. Hagrid flashed Harry a smile before tapping the wall.

Harry's jaw dropped (another thing that had happened a lot today) as an entire street was revealed before his eyes. Sounds and smells came to him through the wall; the screech of birds that he thought might be owls, the stench of ingredients being poured into cauldrons, the beautiful display of flowers that glittered like jewels in the sun. Harry started as he saw that Hagrid had moved on ahead whilst he had been gawping at the sights. Blushing slightly, he ran to catch up as he heard Hagrid pointing out various shops which he knew he just had to visit.

Hagrid had already mentioned a bank for wizards back at Privet Drive so Harry knew what he was looking at when he spotted the large marble building that was so strangely designed. While it was fantastic to look at, it was strange also. Everything was out of proportion by a fairly large degree. The windows were far too thin and very tall. The doors were also very thin, Hagrid barely got through without squeezing himself. Once inside however, the reason for the height was made clear.

Goblins garbed in what appeared to be black body armour with shoulder slung sub-machine guns were guarding the inner door and eyed them suspiciously as they passed through. It seemed they had up scaled their architecture for wizards but out of ignorance (or spite, Harry thought, thinking back to the wizarding history prep) the width of everything had not been increased as successfully.

Regardless, Hagrid explained that it and the vaults beneath were almost impenetrable to anyone but the goblins working there. Somewhere down there in the dark were both his parents' and his family's vault.

The family vault was apparently quite large, for his father's family were an old lineage but due to an 'incident', and Harry grinned here at how this goblins described this, involving his father, the Potter family decided to seal the vault to anyone below 17 years of age. Harry was actually quite relieved by this as he didn't want to be responsible for 'a small fortune' just yet. His private vault (which was, he found out, set up for tuition expenses) was much smaller yet still contained, according to a quick summation from Griphook, an assistant manager of accounts, enough to comfortably cover both Hogwarts tuition fees for seven years and his personal expenses in that time period.

Harry was impressed with the apparent security and efficiency of Gringotts as he and Hagrid left just thirty minutes later with a bag laden with golden galleons, silver sickles and bronze knuts. He was however, even more nervous about Hogwarts and how he, not just a celebrity but a relatively wealthy one to boot, would be received by the student body.

Hagrid said that many would be Muggle-borns but even they would receive history packs that would explain, however briefly, what he had done. He took out his own pack and leafed through to his own summation. To his great relief, someone somewhere had decided to just mention the fall of Voldemort (it had politely been stated in the pamphlet that many in the wizarding world were uncomfortable with saying his name out loud) but not what or who caused it.

Satisfied that he could at least make some sort of impression on a _few_ people before they figured out who he was, Harry chatted with Hagrid about less solemn things such as Quidditch, a frankly amazing sounding sport that his father apparently played well.

Hagrid, realising that Harry knew next to nothing about his parents, told him all he knew. James Potter was a prankster supreme and seemed to be friends with everyone. He was arrogant and skilled but mellowed after his fifth year at Hogwarts. He began dating Lily Evans soon after. Lily was even more gifted at charms and potions but it was her kindness that marked her out to Hagrid. She also possessed a fierce temper that developed in her second year, which was well renowned for shattering more than a few windows at Hogwarts.

Harry drank in every word, feeling a small, dull ache of sadness and of pride when Hagrid listed his parents' qualities and their antics. Hagrid promised that he would try to get some pictures for Harry later on, which Harry responded to with enthusiasm.

To hold a moving, non-static image of his parents, to see them for the first time, meant the world to him. He was beginning to really appreciate Hagrid and all he had done.

* * *

In fact, the rest of the afternoon was brilliant. Even an obnoxious boy his age in Madam Malks' robe shop didn't dampen his spirits. Harry had caught on to the fact that the boy was Pure-blood and insufferably scathing of Muggles in general. He was beginning to have some misgivings as to how reasonable the Wizarding world was when it came to tolerance and fairness. Then again, the Pure-bloods apparently were a very small minority and even amongst them, attitudes varied.

Harry wasn't sure exactly what was magical about a hairdressers or a pub but the Owl Emporium was clearly full of charmed dustpans and brushes clearing away the dung dropped from perches. He didn't know why they bothered to be honest because as soon as the dustpan collected them, they vanished. The owls themselves were beautiful beings, wisdom and intelligence showing clearly deep within their eyes. The snowy owls were peaceful and sleeping, the barn owls were preening themselves and there was a massive eagle owl in the corner tearing the head off of a rat. Harry didn't like the look of that one.

Hagrid introduced him to a snowy owl that looked at him curiously before nipping his finger softly. Hagrid then said that he would pay for this owl as a birthday present if Harry wanted her. Harry protested as Hagrid had done so much already but he did look again at the owl. She seemed to approve of him and so he took Hagrid up on his offer, thanking him profusely for his first ever birthday present.

Harry was impatient to finally get to the last store on his list, Ollivander's wand shop in which he could finally get his hands on a magic wand; just saying the words _magic wand _made Harry giggle at how surreal this experience was.

He took the decayed and dark shop in his stride, from what he had seen so far, wizards didn't seem to care about attractive store fronts. What he was not prepared for was Mr Ollivander himself.

The old man was _creepy_, plain and simple.

He didn't seem to even _see_ Harry Potter until he was holding a wand given to him. Apparently, the old man liked a challenge however, as Harry seemed to be incompatible to many of the wands in his shop. Between the brief waving and the quick snatching off before the next wand, Harry wondered if he was insulting Ollivander's craftsmanship by being so poor with his wands. This proved to be untrue however; Ollivander's enjoyment grew by the minute until he finally grew quiet and reflective at the very back of the shop.

"Well, let's try _this_," Mr Ollivander said with a strange tint to his voice.

Harry ignored this. His entire point of view was now centred on the thin strip of wood in the old man's hand that seemed to hum in time with his heartbeat.

As he took it into his grasp, a spark shot through his arm and his mind suddenly felt so full of energy and power that when he twitched his hand the power surged forth and red sparks shot straight out of the end of the wand. Both men applauded and Harry paid, slightly shaken by what had just happened.

Mr Ollivander looked at him peculiarly before dropping the bombshell that this wand was the twin of Voldemort's.

Harry looked again at the earthy coloured wooden strip. It did not look so threatening, even when he did find out about its lineage. The hum that came from it was rhythmical, almost musical in nature, like a bird song.

"Why does it do that, sir?"

"The wand is a tool, first and foremost. But the greatest tools are those that are a part of us."

The wand was in his bag now, but he could feel an oh-so-small connection. He felt like he had at once both expanded his horizons and yet submitted to this tool and yet it too was bound to him. Hagrid seemed to give him a bit of space to adapt before they moved onwards back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

It was early evening now and the sun was streaming down the street, touching everything and making it brighter for a moment before they passed by. It had been the best birthday, the best _day_ Harry had ever had.

Hagrid took him home on the train this time, muttering a half heard explanation about "not over doing it."

Harry didn't mind as it gave him more time to grill Hagrid about what he had to do on the 1st of September. He was told about the platform trick and was told by Hagrid to just run at it if he was nervous. Harry had no problems with disappearing walls now and so Hagrid gave him his ticket and bade him farewell on his doorstep.

* * *

Harry fell asleep that night and for once, he dreamed unafraid of dragons, flying witches and the golden halls of Hogwarts.


	5. Chapter 5: Misdirection

**AEU Chapter 5**

In the study of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall were going through the new student list for the coming year. Magic could suffice to sort through, write, send letters and receive them but they needed to find out which of their new students may need support or care upon arrival.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin is prone to asthma attacks," Albus noted. "Please inform Poppy that she may be required to perform minor treatment on his throat and lungs if he and his parents agree to it." Minerva noted it on her parchment.

"Gulge, Barnaby may require some spectacles. He has long-sightedness," Minerva said.

Magic could effectively fix eye problems through repeated transfiguration and potion sessions once a patient had reached magical maturity. The shape of the eye was the key to treatment and one needed a mature magical core to maintain the transfigured shape. Otherwise the eye would require constant medical attention and readjustment every day. Fortunately, magic spectacles were by this point as good as having perfect eyesight, so long as you kept them on your head.

Both professors' minds wandered to the new students they had personally invited to Hogwarts. Albus had done many; he had a real pleasure in revealing the magical world to one more person and had been doing it for over fifty years. Minerva had done only one that year, a rather excitable girl named Hermione Granger.

Her parents had taken the revelation well and the girl herself had been ecstatic. Yes...that family had certainly been interesting. The professor smiled at the memory, it seemed Hogwarts was going to be receiving many bright young minds this year. Speaking of which…

"Did Hagrid explain the situation well?" she asked.

Albus frowned. Minerva didn't mistrust Hagrid but she felt he was not suited to these sorts of tasks. Hagrid however had proved to be exemplary in this endeavour, welcoming Harry not only into his world but telling the boy many things that he personally needed to know, without being star-struck or overly thankful towards him. Albus was pleased that Harry had finally been treated as a person by someone and was looking forward to seeing what the boy could do.

"Hagrid has my absolute confidence, Minerva. He treated Harry with respect, as a person and not as an item, and most importantly of all, Harry has found someone with whom he can trust and connect with. He is prepared, he knows what to expect when he comes to Hogwarts and _we _know that he is ready and willing to learn. This could not have gone better," Albus finished off his list and looked across the desk at Minerva. "And that reminds me, Poppy might need to do something about Harry's glasses. I doubt there is much we can do for his eyes yet. But at least we can give him the correct lenses."

Minerva looked at Albus. He was exhausted. The past few months had been hard on everyone in the Wizengamot but he was also dealing with the most powerful wizards on the planet in Barcelona. Not that he wasn't the better of them all but still, too much pressure wore down everyone, no matter how brilliant they may be.

"I understand, Headmaster. What of Flamel's package?" she asked.

He sighed and said, "I retrieved the false stone from his vault just before they went down to Harry's vault. Hagrid was an admirable distraction. My suspicions were confirmed. Quirrell is working for Voldemort."

Minerva gasped as he continued, "It seems we could, if we are very careful, lure Voldemort from wherever he has sunk himself into a trap. Then perhaps we can finally end him."

Minerva sharply rounded on this idea, "We cannot let _You-Know-Who_ into the castle, not with the students here! Have you taken leave of your senses?"

The headmaster calmly smoothed down his robes before replying, "Calm yourself, Professor. I have a plan."

* * *

A well-dressed gentleman sat atop a rooftop in York. He idly gazed up at the night sky as if trying to descend the fates from its inky blackness. A simple yet elegant ebony cane flowed loosely from his left hand, whilst his right hand held nothing but hung loosely over his right knee.

A second figure appeared suddenly some distance behind the first, making not a sound as he strolled towards the sitting man. Whilst he wore black, the other wore grey.

"Most disturbing news from Albania," the seated one said, not bothering to turn around.

"Indeed. But you did not call me here to speak about Tom Riddle, did you?"

The suit did not crease as the seated man stood up. Or rather, he was sat down and now he was suddenly stood next to the other man.

"I did not. The Monitor tells me-"

"I know what the Monitor says," the other man interrupted. "Why do you believe what we have hoped for so many a year is happening now? Surely it is another false alarm?"

"I would not know about that," the man with the cane said, "The magical signatures of the population are not my concern. What does interest me are two new possibilities."

Despite the rumbling of traffic rising from the street below, a clear intake of breath was heard from the man in the black suit.

"Two natural possible candidates in one generation? I know the war hit the normal wizarding populace hard but-"

"T'would seem so. It is of no immediate concern though. The girl is years away yet from her magical education but the boy-"

"Not by any chance THE boy, is it?" The man in black queried.

Champion Dumbledore had always kept him so tightly defended and shut away. Teaching him anything useful would be…difficult.

"It would appear so. Don't worry. I'll think of a way to explain the concepts," Grey suit said with a calmness that appeared to appease the other somewhat. "Still, I shall be busy with other affairs should Voldemort truly be so foolish as to return to Britain."

The other figure nodded.

"So the other Enlightened are fine with me interfering?" Grey suit probed.

"Not happy, but resigned to it. Do as you will, but do not break your vows. Do not allow the secret to be let out, and do not attack unless attacked."

The man in black shifted, as if uncertain to reveal anything more but quietly said, "Honestly? Most of them have fallen back into slumber. I think there are only five active left, including us two and the Guardian. So be careful but do what must be done. I know I shall."

"So let it be," the grey clad figure finished, nodding his head slightly before vanishing with a swish of a hand and less than a flicker of a breeze.

The man in the black suit stared out over the city in contemplation.

"So let it be."


	6. Chapter 6: Scarlet engine

**AEU Chapter 6**

Generally, Harry had found Uncle Vernon to be an altogether disagreeable person but in this case he was more than eager to drive him to the train station.

As he drove off, continuing to hold that vacant expression that Harry thought might actually be deep thought, Harry took a moment to admire the busy station with the hundreds of people rushing to and from trains, and the high vaulted ceiling which let in so much light. As his last look at the nonmagical world for at least ten months, it wasn't half bad.

The entrance to platform 9¾ was simple enough to get through if a little daunting; it was after all, a straight run up into an apparently brick wall. Harry thought that few people unused to the wizarding world _wouldn't_ be at least a little afraid of doing this.

As he was gearing himself up for the run, he caught his first sight of a wizarding family. The mother and children were a strange bunch, a collection of woolly jumpers, large trunks stacked on top of trollies and the fact that they had an owl with them made the group stick out like a sore thumb. Harry wondered exactly what sort of magic allowed wizards to get away with being so…obvious.

There was a very excited girl of no more than ten running up and down the group. The mother was clearly trying to placate her a little, as surely all of them already knew what the platform number was? You could see it in the mother's smile. She probably did this every year.

The brothers, all four of them, chuckled at their younger sister before galloping through the wall at break neck speed. Harry hoped they weren't waiting around next to the other side of the entrance as he too ran towards the wall and suddenly found himself at the far end of a deserted train station. Remembering that someone could be coming behind him at any moment, he turned his trolley around and saw that it was not an empty station as he had thought.

There was a sizeable crowd a few hundred meters away and a truly magnificent scarlet engine on the tracks. Pinkish steam erupted from the funnel in its cabin and he immediately fell in love with the steam train. Harry wondered where the wizards could have gotten one from until he realised that this was probably purchased a century ago and they just hadn't bothered updating to diesel.

Indeed why would they?

He also knew Hogwarts was basically impenetrable from magical transportation methods and that…what was the name of the village? Hog-s-meane? There was one fairly close by that presumably had a station of its own. This entire set up had made the point sink in that wizards were everywhere and had been for a very long time.

As he passed the cabin of the engine, he could have sworn he smelt the scent of lemon and sugar, but the smell vanished as quickly as it arrived from his nostrils. Harry shook his head of thoughts and concentrated on not bumping into anyone on the crowded platform. He hoped he wouldn't be spotted by anyone. His heavy trunk was somehow effortlessly lifted by the skinny boy onto the train before being set down with a clunk by some invisible force.

Many of the compartments were still empty and so he picked one of them, set his trunk firmly in place and set Hedwig loose. She could fly along with the train or, more likely, fly straight to Hogwarts. As she soared gracefully out of the window, Harry once again began contemplating life at Hogwarts.

Suddenly the compartment door opened and the youngest of the brothers from earlier looked in sheepishly.

"Hi…Do you mind? Everywhere else is full." He said, looking uncertainly at Harry.

Confused, Harry leant out of the window and with a start noticed that he had been sat there for ten minutes and that everyone had boarded. He looked back at the ginger boy.

"Don't your brothers have a compartment?" he asked.

The boy looked down and said, "Well, Percy's a _prefect_ so he went to their compartment. Fred and George went off with Lee and I wouldn't want to be stuck in a confined space with them anyway," his mouth twitching upwards as he said that, "They're real troublemakers, y'know? Anyway, everywhere else is full and…" he tailed off and started to back out of the compartment, clearly embarrassed at himself.

Harry stopped him and invited him in. He wasn't going to push people away now when they were finally talking to him.

"I'm Ron by the way, Ron Weasley," the boy called Ron offered.

Harry cringing internally as he said "I'm Harry...Potter."

Harry quickly looked at the other boy and saw to his anxious expectation that Ron was looking gobsmacked.

"Do you, y'know, have the-the-_the scar_?" he asked, fairly politely but clearly desperate to know.

Harry showed him _the scar_, a lightning bolt of a cut and Ron was again duly amazed. Harry was becoming uncomfortable at this point but Ron quickly snapped out of his stupor and asked what he had heard about Hogwarts. Apparently, to those born into the 'Wizarding world', Harry Potter disappeared to live amongst the Muggles, causing quite a bit of literary tat and speculation as to what might have happened plus, Ron told a flushed Harry, quite a large fan club desperate to finally see 'their _hero_'. Harry quickly changed the subject and both boys grinned as Harry asked more detailed questions about Quidditch, the Houses and Ron's life. He could already see that Ron had not come from money but had clearly been loved and looked after every day of his life.

Despite his flippant comments about his family, Harry could tell he cared about them deeply.

* * *

The lunch trolley came and went, a touch lighter than it was. Harry was unsure whether he should be stuffing his small stomach with such sugary sweets but that wasn't going to stop him eating today.

Ron was in a league of his own however. Having demolished the pasties and the cakes, he was now gingerly picking through some beans which, he said, were generally revolting, brilliant or weird.

Harry, upon having a grass flavoured bean, saw his point. Only the indefatigable Weasley could eat these beans regularly. Ron's overtly fat rat was scampering over the food crumbs that were left by the two's onslaught. He normally slept just below Ron's belt whenever Harry was looking at the rat. It wasn't completely useless however, as Harry found out when three boys who smelt of bully lumbered into the room. He was surprised to see that the small blonde kid from Diagon Alley was directing them but then again, the two monsters either side of him clearly weren't that bright.

Harry was nervous, his general tactic with Dudley was to run or confuse him, which wasn't really an option here. After some disparaging comments about Ron's family, the two meat sack boys moved in. Scabbers however, came to the rescues and bit one of them. This was more than enough to scare away the buffoons leaving the blonde one with no back up. Before this registered on his face, Harry and Ron threw him from the compartment and slammed the door shut.

"And that there Harry," said Ron, adopting a lecturing voice, "is exactly why the world is so messed up. That prat right there is Pure-blood and his dad effectively controls the Minister for Magic."

"How did he manage that?" Harry said, frowning.

Ron shook his head and said, "My dad says that a few Pure-blood families are loaded with cash...not ours of course. Malfoy buys the right people off to get his policies through." Ron leaned in conspiratorially, "He was…very high up in the _other_ _side's_ ranks in the last war, if you catch my drift."

'_Jesus, so that's how this all started. A few wealthy idiots found something minute that they all had in common and based a cult off of it. What a bunch of pricks._'

Harry gasped, "How can he still be free then?"

Ron smirked in distaste, "He said he was bewitched, whatever_ that_ means. Just an excuse for the courts. Gold did the rest."

Harry took a look at his dejected friend and tried to cheer him up by motioning to the stack of purple boxes they had not yet touched, "What are these?"

Ron's face immediately lit up, "Those are chocolate frogs, transfigured into behaving like real frogs even though they are solid chocolate. They're pretty good but it's the cards you want," he explained just as Harry was uncovering his first one: Albus Dumbledore.

The headmaster was clearly incredibly talented going off his achievements and Harry was curious as to see what he would say at the welcoming feat that night, which, as Ron kept raving about it, seemed to be a rather fine evening all round. The Sorting Ceremony however, he was nervous about. The pamphlet had only mentioned that it existed and was a test of sorts to decide in which house you would be put in. Ron was no help either and looked slightly green at the thought. Obviously, Harry thought, the twins (who were sizing up to be a mix of prankster and occasional bullies) had put some horrible image in his head of what the sorting would entail.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "At least we're near the bottom of the list. We can see how it's done."

Ron nodded, his face brightening in reassurance and he continued showing Harry various cards of notable witches and wizards from his own collection.

* * *

Evening was approaching when the door slid open again. A bushy haired girl stood in the doorway, quickly scanned the apartment and then looked at the two boys. Apparently a boy had lost a toad and she, judging from her demeanour, had leapt at the chance to be bossy to the whole train in the search for it. The reminder of animals made Harry look at Ron's rat again.

"Aren't rats not allowed?" he said, recalling no such allowance being in the letter.

Ron blushed and mumbled that he was going to keep him 'secret' in his dorm. Harry gave him an appraising glance and then looked back at the girl.

"Who are you?" he asked politely.

She blinked and then answered, "I'm Hermione Granger."

He introduced himself and Ron. Hermione look curiously at Harry.

"You're in quite a few books you know," she said at Harry whilst frowning at Ron who was attempting to eat the last few chocolate frogs...whole.

"I am?" Harry ventured warily.

_'Bugger. Didn't think about that. Ron had made it sound like only gossipy stuff and conspiracy theories, not actual written books...'_

"Oh yes," Hermione said in a matter-of-fact voice that still betrayed a tone of sympathy as she said, "I'm not exactly sure how widespread your fame is but I would imagine at Hogwarts…"

"I figured. So are you not from the Wizarding world then?" Harry picked up on the fact that she 'had' to read up on him; wasn't she told at home?

"I'm from…what did Professor McGonagall call it? A nonmagical family. First witch from it." She said happily, clearly pleased to be going to Hogwarts. "Anyway, nice to meet you and everything but I need to get back and you two need to change. I expect we will be arriving soon." She took off at speed down the train. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged.

"Mental," both said at the same time, and then grinned at each other before pulling their trunks down.

* * *

Hagrid was waiting for the first years at the station and led them down to some boats. Harry looked around, confused that he couldn't see Hogwarts already. When the boats passed around a rocky crag though, Harry and many others gasped in awe.

High above them, on a low lying mountain surrounded by others, stood an enormous castle that thrummed with magical energy. The many windows were little pinpricks in the mighty walls as Harry looked at the colossal tower that he assumed to be the Astronomy Tower, the tallest of the four main towers of Hogwarts. His mind boggled at the size.

How many people were at this place?

Why was it so large?

They passed under a rock formation and the group saw a wooden door set into a honeysuckle coloured wall. Hagrid knocked on the door and it opened after yelping at Hagrid (probably not for the first time) to not tap too hard, revealing a stern looking woman holding a scroll in one hand. The giant disappeared as Professor McGonagall led them into a simply _cavernous_ entrance hall, which seemed to stretch the full height of the main castle upwards.

Harry could see the multitude of staircases above him and shivered at the thought of falling from one of them. The Professor explained quickly about the house system before leading them through to what she called the great hall. It was filled with students looking at the fairly terrified first years. Harry could see the white gleam from Headmaster Dumbledore's beard at the end of the hall.

McGonagall stopped in front of a battered old hat and Harry watched as the hat began to _sing_. He couldn't help himself and started laughing about the absurdity of the situation. Ron was seething quietly at his brothers for telling him he would have to wrestle a troll.

The hat's song ended with, "Let the Sorting now begin," and gave a pointed glance to the professor.

The long list of names was called out, with Hermione and Malfoy being the only names Harry recognised. She was placed in Gryffindor, by most accounts the most attractive of houses. Malfoy was immediately placed in Slytherin, apparently a house for the sneaky but smart. Harry narrowed his eyes somewhat. Even though Slytherin had a bad reputation, he could see many faces along their table that did not seem to bear any hostility to any of the first years. Cunning did not necessarily mean insidious, after all.

Ron desperately wanted to be put into Gryffindor with the rest of his family but Harry didn't really have a preference. It would be interesting to see what the hat made of him. Whenever anyone took the thing off, they nearly wobbled onto the floor however, so there was a tiny flicker of uncertainty about the whole business with him as well.

When his name rang out, it was repeated a thousand times by the students and teachers, all craning to have a look at him. He felt uneasy being on a stage in front of them all, and was immensely relieved when the hat slid over his eyes blocking his view of them all.

"_Hmm_," said a voice just below his left ear.

Was it a voice or his own head though?

_"Potter, yes…oh I have been waiting a long time for this...to see what you would bring to this school."_

Harry gulped as the hat continued on burrowing through his head.

"_Not bad at all, eager to learn, thirst to prove yourself…uncertain of whom you are. Very interesting. And the things going on in your head...very interesting indeed._"

Was what the hat said true?

Harry never thought he would genuine ask himself that question...

His thoughts continue to whirl before the hat interrupted them, "_Please Potter, calm yourself. You know, I think you would do well in Slytherin. What say you?_"

Harry considered. He didn't know enough about the house history, but from what he could tell, Slytherin was for the power hungry, the ones determined to excel and defeat everyone else, literally or otherwise. That did not sound like him.

"_Perhaps Potter, perhaps…but I am unconvinced you are not," _the hat interrupted his thoughts again, causing Harry to jump; he had forgotten the hat was in his head.

"_Hmm, not a bad mind, quite logical in fact. Ah but you have drive and far, far too much ambition to go into Ravenclaw. You have no concept of loyalty and bugger all in regards to trust, though I can understand that given your situation...so there goes your neat feet into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Hmm, very interesting. I think...I think you may have to choose one for yourself, Potter._"

Harry was starting to get annoyed at the hat. Wasn't its entire function to split the school up? Obviously it had gone bonkers and started singing to itself in the downtime.

"_You know Potter, for someone so smart, you seem to be having trouble with the _'I am in your head' _thing. I assure you, I can choose if I so desire, but I always look for the input of the student. In fact, whether they know it or not, it is almost _always_ their choice. I have given you my assessment but since you so clearly wish to argue with the being designed to place you...would you kindly get a move on?"_

Now Harry was being reprimanded by a hat! A hat that had just gotten tighter on his head, as if an arm had been placed round his shoulders.

"_Face it, my new friend, stranger things have happened. And things are not always as they appear."_

The school watched on with curiosity. The hat seemed to be taking its time with Harry Potter and each house was hoping he would come to them. The teachers were privately curious as well, with even Dumbledore seemingly peering at the little figure on the stool.

"_So, are you ready, or do you wish to continue this dialogue beyond what is necessary?_"

A few flashes of images flitted through Harry's mind like Hat's voice had done. It made him quite dizzy.

'_Excuse me?_" Harry thought confusedly.

"_Mind your own business,_" the hat said sharply.

The minutes dragged on as the unsourced first years became more and more afraid of what was going on.

Finally, the seam in the hat opened and shouted, "Gryffindor!"

The whole of Gryffindor house burst into applause but so did many of the other houses. Harry felt unsure of why they were doing that but when he saw the teachers applauding too he figured they might also be thanking him for the, well, saving the world thing.

Grinning slightly but still off balance by the mental argument with the hat, he settled down in an empty space along the table. Percy the prefect and Hermione both smiled at him whilst the twins both wrung his hand. Ron did of course also manage to get into Gryffindor and both boys were now watching as the list finally finished and Dumbledore declared the feast to begin. Both boys stared at the food that appeared before them before diving straight in.

After a very long time of doing nothing but eat and drink, Harry sat back as Dumbledore stood again.

"First, I would like to welcome our new first years to Hogwarts. I you will find with us a second home and a small lifetime's worth of adventures."

"Now, the full list of banned items Mr Filch so studiously updates each year has been once again added to his office door. My usual reminder of staying out of the Forbidden Forest stands," and at this the Headmaster pointedly fixed his eyes on the Weasley twins, "It is not there for your amusement but for the maintaining of rare magical creatures and a notable Centaur colony. Please do not go wondering through it."

"On an even more serious note, I must advise you all not to stray into the third floor corridor on the right hand side, to anyone who does wish to die a most painful death. And by the way...I have locked the door myself, so don't even think about taking this on as a 'challenge'."

Harry could see the truth etched into Dumbledore's face at this statement.

"And now, I shall release you afore you all collapse from the sleeping draughts the Weasley twins laced the chicken with. Off to bed, pip pip!"

Harry stumbled along with the other first years, wondering exactly what he was getting into.

Why did the school appear to have a nature reserve full of dangerous creatures?

What was on the third floor?

Why the HELL were the pictures moving?

At the moment though, he had no answers to these questions so he just followed the sound of Percy's voice to his new common room. Apparently he had to give a password to a painting and then he could get in.

The room itself looked lovely, with a fire already lit in the large grate and the twin scent of cinnamon and pine needles. His bed looked extremely inviting after such a good meal (and apparently several drugs) and he barely managed to change into pyjamas before collapsing into it.

* * *

"Most intriguing," Albus Dumbledore murmured after he finished speaking to the hat.

The old thing was never fully forthright about the conversations he had with students, yet would give a general impression of each for the Headmaster to consider. Being a hat, and a chatterbox, the trick was more about getting it to shut up more than anything else. In fact, it generally offered to just meld with him directly but honestly, Dumbledore preferred to speak. His power lay in words.

"Mr Potter apparently has the raw skill and natural cunning to perform well in Slytherin, yet he seemed to refuse that possibility."

He thought for a while about what that could mean.

Perhaps the boy could avoid the traps he himself had fallen into, lusting for power that he was not worthy of having. Yet, he was young, and the young always change and make mistakes. Even the older and wiser Dumbledore did. How one started off did not indicate much.

But thank Merlin that he didn't seem to be as cock-sure as his father was, before he become so much more delightfully wiser. He winced slightly when he considered the possibility of Harry inheriting his mother's temper. Dumbledore remembered how long she had to spend apologising to the Herbology teacher for shattering that greenhouse...

He glanced down at the wand that had been his obsession for years. He had recently been...awakening his former misgivings about the instrument. Ah, but the power was _intoxicating_, even for an already strong and still yet so foolish magical champion.

As if called from a thought half remembered, Albus strode over to his desk and opened a long forgotten drawer. From within, he pulled out his old, _real_ wand, abandoned for so many years in his pursuit of power. The headmaster looked down at his faithful companion of nearly fifty years. How could he ever have chosen any other, no matter what the power within? Had he not always said t'was not the ability but _the choice_ and intent that mattered?

'But the wand is a tool. Nothing more!' his mind murmured to him.

'And yet," another part of himself said, "a tool made exclusively for Death, by Death, as a means for Death."

The old wizard decided to practice what he had long preached. With an approving chirp calling from behind him, he raised his hand and incinerated the Elder Wand where it lay on the desk.

Almost immediately, he felt a great weight float away from him, like a man long under imprisonment released from his chains he had forgotten he wore. As he checked to see if any parts of the wand remained, a warm feeling spread through him as he felt his old wand in his hand again. Dumbledore smiled as Fawkes the Phoenix stretched his wings behind him on his perch.

This year had begun well.


	7. Chapter 7: Stirring the potion

**AEU Chapter 7**

The first few days after the start of term were a whirlwind of confusion and chaos for everyone.

Professor McGonagall (his new head of house) had handed Harry his timetable on the 2nd of September and he had yet to get to a single lesson on time. Happily for him, everyone else seemed to be in the same boat, trying to navigate the unhelpfully large castle and by the end of the week he had begun to memorise the various routes to his classes. The staircases were giving him some grief as they were unreliable in their movements on a day to day basis but, as Harry reflected as he came down on Friday morning to breakfast, at least he wasn't afraid of heights.

Hermione Granger, the girl from the train however, had to not only contend with a heavy bag of books she _insisted_ on lugging around everywhere but also her deep-rooted fear of the second floor stair case, whose mission in life seemed to be to make first years scream as it stopped halfway through its turn between floors, leaving them all dangling above a stomach clenching drop. Eventually, word got around about the trick of kicking the second step up, which made the stairs do its job properly as it seemed akin to kicking a man between his legs.

Breakfast was another affair entirely. Apart from the owls that were want to fly down and deposit, among other things, letters and parcels, the teachers were also almost always there, badgering fifth and seventh year students about their exams. Harry definitely wasn't looking forward to those and Ron had yet again a few horror stories supplied from his large family about the pressure cooker that was the **N**astily **E**xhausting **W**izard **T**ests.

Both Ron and Harry looked up as the mail arrived that morning, out of habit more than anything else. Ron had a subscription to the Daily Prophet wizard newspaper which duly landed in front of him on time every morning, whilst Harry never got anything because of course, everyone who actually _liked_ him was inside the walls of Hogwarts already. He was surprised therefore when Hedwig landed softly beside him with a note attached to her leg. She nipped his finger and took off again, probably to preen herself. Harry smiled when he saw that Hagrid had invited him to his hut for tea that afternoon. He looked up at the high table and waved and nodded enthusiastically to the giant sat at the end.

The school year had started on a weekend and he hadn't had a break from all the work he had been given since. Ron would be coming too as Hagrid had been particularly fond of his older brother Charlie.

Harry choked on his cornflakes when Ron said nonchalantly, "He's out in Romania studying dragons."

"Dragons?" Harry said after a few moments of clearing his throat.

"Yeah, loves the bloody things. Got quite a few burns from a few of them though," Ron answered.

Harry was still questioning him about dragons as Ron unrolled the paper and gasped when he saw the headline.

"Harry, Gringotts was broken into!" he said in disbelief as several people who didn't take in a daily paper swivelled in his direction in shock.

Harry didn't know much about the Wizarding world yet but he knew enough to tell him that something very powerful or very clever would be needed in order to crack the goblin bank. People were grabbing the nearest paper to them with concern. Gringotts had been their idea of impregnability and the idea of it being robbed was unsettling. Curiously, the teacher table at the front of the hall was oddly relaxed about the morning papers. Dumbledore was even chuckling at the daily comic strip.

Harry wasn't quite sure, and he wouldn't tell anyone else in case he was wrong, but there might be something _going on_ here at Hogwarts. Then again, he wasn't exactly sure why a school of all places would have such things as _plots_ occurring within them.

Ron looked relieved, along with most of the student body, when it turned out nothing was taken from the vault in question. This made Harry even more interested, for clearly the robbers had effortlessly broken in and looked around the vault before leaving…so why did they take nothing?

"The goblins insist nothing was taken, for the vault was in fact emptied earlier that very same day," read off Hermione, who was also beginning to look curious even though she probably didn't have an account there.

Any further deliberation was stopped cold by the sudden presence of the potions master at Hogwarts, Professor Snape.

Harry hadn't been looking forward to having him for two hours when he first got his timetable on the second day of term, and his instincts proved him right when Snape (as everyone, except the Slytherins called him, among other things) proved in his first class he was determined to make Harry go through hell and back in his lesson.

* * *

The potion room burst open almost as soon as everyone had begun to get restless, almost as if the professor wanted a dramatic entrance.

A few eyebrows were raised at his cliché villainous entrance, robes billowing behind him and with a cold glare on his face, silently daring anyone to laugh. Finding no one so foolish, his eyes pierced the class with what would turn out to be his signature glare, before going on a long (and clearly well-practiced) rant about how potions was not a path for the weak. He lingered for a moment on Neville Longbottom for a moment in the same way a panther looks at a dying chicken before deciding to play with it.

Harry was feeling sorry for the little fat boy before Snape's eyes finally found him. The temperature in the room dropped an icy degree lower as Snape actually seemed to grow more hateful.

"Well, well," he started, beginning to move around his desk, "Harry Potter, our new _celebrity_."

His lip curled inwards when he spat out the last word, causing a few Slytherins in the room to snigger.

Snape wasn't done however, "Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" he asked suddenly.

Harry was caught off guard by the sudden questioning but he routed in his memory for the answer. The Dursleys had never really supported him in his previous schooling (and it showed) yet he had surprised himself over the summer with his own thirst for knowledge and his retentive skills. Plus the fact that it was all magic probably helped.

'**_Magical drafts and potions_**_ mentioned wormwood twice in relation to potions, both in the same recipe' _Harry thought.

"Err…they come together to make a sleeping potion, a very powerful one in fact, sir." Harry said with some discomfort, having never really answered a vocal question in class before, nor having ever possessed the desire to do so.

The slightly dejected look he received from Hermione as she put her hand down gave him some hope that his answer was right but Snape apparently wasn't letting him off that easily.

"Tell me Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" he asked.

'_Damn'_ Harry thought, '_what the hell is one of those?'_

His mind stretched back and scoured what he could remember from **One thousand herbs and fungi** (which honestly was about as interesting as it had sounded) and came up with nothing. The potions book was slightly more useful, having a description of what the object was, a stone but little else-

'…_Wait, that was it! It was a stomach stone farmed from goats!'_

"I think sir, you find it in the stomach of goats that have been pasteurized on magically fertile land," Harry answered after a moment of consideration, more confidently this time. Although he wasn't sure what most of that sentence meant.

Snape's scowl at his second correct answer had him frowning slightly.

He liked that Snape was not treating him as the Boy-Who-Lived but this was borderline _abuse_ for no discernible reason he could think of. Snape withdrew from questioning him further and simply flicked the blackboard with his wand, telling everyone they had one hour to prepare the selected potion. Having noticed Hermione's aptitude and eagerness, even whilst Snape was questioning him, he decided to collaborate in this first potion class. She agreed readily, impressed that he had read and actually enjoyed (despite himself) the quietly brilliant writings of Arsenius Jigger. Whilst he had questionable opinions on the uses of poisons in relation to vicars, the man clearly knew what he was writing about.

Their two potions were going well and they chatted quietly about their impressions thus far about Hogwarts and wizards in general. The girl seems nice enough, but had the unfortunate attitude of a know-it-all and clearly loved playing the part of one. Snape had kept far away from their table up until now, and he had concentrated much of his time to correcting the measurements of several 'dunderheads'. Harry could sort of see why he was being so hostile towards the people who were getting it wrong, as every potions books warns against the_ adverse_ effects that can happen even when handling simple ingredients. They were all essentially sat around potentially explosive magical bombs that could go off at any time and with any given effect, should the remotest thing go wrong.

No wonder the potions master was an uncompromising dick.

Ron and Neville were beginning what Harry feared was going to be a five year long tradition of melting Neville's cauldron. Thankfully, Snape had at least seemed prepared for this, vanishing the contents of the vat before it sprayed over everyone. Muttering lowly to himself about how the cauldron was in a much, MUCH better place now (and how much _he_ wished he was too), he strode away to help the Slytherin table, which had caught fire.

* * *

At the end of two classes in which Snape had dragged him through the blender, even after he had presented a decent potion and Hermione a pretty damn perfect one, Harry decided to stay behind and confront Snape over his treatment of him. He had not escaped the Dursleys in order to be bullied here and the boy was emboldened for the first time in his life with the support of a growing group of friends.

Snape glanced up at him, "Yes, Mr Potter?" he said, dangerously quietly.

'_Oh crap...why is it only occurring to me now that I could have gone to McGonagall with this?_' Harry thought fearfully.

"Sir, with all due respect, I want to ask you why you have treated me so unfairly these past few days. I have done nothing to offend you and I want to know what your problem with me is," Harry stated with a polite tone but with a stare to back up his words.

He knew he spoke differently than many of his peers but when you had nothing to read but the books Dudley's pompous and pretentious relatives gave him to store in Harry's room, the dictionary was often required. Not that those books weren't read...

Snape was having an internal battle himself. '_The boy is so bloody like his father. He has his looks, his voice and his defiance.'_

_'And also his spine,' _a smaller voice inside him said.

'_Lilly's son…well, I can see her in him, though he has been neglected a fair amount,' _an unusual and unexpected feeling of anger welled up at the mistreatment of this child, so like his younger self, almost totally alone before Hogwarts.

Even after all this time, he still always felt pity for those of his students whom were currently going through what he did.

'_Almost…Lilly. I owe it to her. And perhaps the boy is not as insufferable as his father. He at least appears to be respectful. He isn't completely reckless either...and he isn't awful at potions.'_

_'Oh...oh, very well.'_

Snape finished his deliberation as he looked into Harry's eyes for the first time.

'_Ah...that was a mistake._'

"Mr Potter, I feel I have...misjudged you somewhat. Though I will not explain at this time exactly why, I think I can get past this and see my way into treating you," and at this he paused briefly, "slightly better. If you continue to do well in this class, we shall have no further problems between us…Harry."

The boy himself was slightly confused at what Snape had just said, along with the mysterious look the black eyes of the professor gave him.

"Thank you, sir. I hope I can do well here." Harry said before quietly excusing himself to catch up with his friends.

* * *

Whilst Harry was still none the wiser about exactly what Professor Snape was referring too, his attitude towards him, and indeed everyone in his class, had improved somewhat after their conversation.

Whilst he was still a cold, _cold_ bastard to many, including Ron who excelled at being underwhelming in his lesson, Neville and some other flagging students had begun to be given grudging help from the teacher. The first few lessons appeared to be just a means as to put the fear of _god_ into everyone so they wouldn't cock up and kill everyone in the class with an explosion. Still...his style left much to be desired, though everyone was starting to do better,

Potions class was still nowhere near the first year's favourite subject but it had risen up a few notches. History of Magic in particular was becoming the new horrible class, as it became apparent to the class that Binns was never, ever going to get interesting. Harry was beginning to look forward to the rest of the term, wondering exactly how all of these events were going to affect his time here.


	8. Chapter 8: The Elder conundrum

**AEU Chapter 8**

Albus Dumbledore had not felt so bubbly in years.

Many who knew him commented on the twinkle in his eyes, so long absent from him or his newfound ability to make merry and be less serious again. His old wand, so long unused, was far more a part of him than the powerful Elder wand he had replaced it with. All those old good magic deeds he had performed came back to him, taking him back to a time before the plotting, the 'greater good' and Gellert Grindelwald had destroyed his life.

He realised that ever since, the Elder wand had stopped him moving on from those dark days after that fateful duel. Dumbledore had begun to trust anyone willing to serve what he deemed 'the Light', paranoid to share his plans with those people at the expense of their lives, for sharing with Gellert had utterly broken him in the end. He admitted ashamedly to himself that he had become as Voldemort was, unwilling to trust, no one to love and seemingly, shockingly, _okay_ with that situation.

Now though, as he pondered his own failures…it was clear the smart young wizard he once was knew what right and wrong were. It was Gellert and what Gellert brought that took the possibility of Dumbledore's fall and made it reality. That and Dumbledore's own pride, his damn unassailable pride. Had Gellert not been there, Dumbledore would have simply talked and talked, never taking action and never taking responsibility either, lost in his fantasies. Perhaps not everything that man had made him into was bad then.

Unfortunately, now he had hit a snag in that the Wand of Destiny, that infernal device that was a symbol for everything he was willing to do for power, was intact even after many of his efforts to destroy it.

Vanishing the wand did nothing; disintegration was only slightly more effective because it worked for around about five minutes before the wand reformed.

Incineration merely set fire to his desk and his beard, which he patted out half-amusedly, half-irritated. Fawkes always had an aversion to the wand and could do nothing to destroy it.

Several truly powerful spells safely conducted in that marvellous room that was and was yet not, failed too at destroying or harming the wand very much.

Dumbledore was now wondering how he was supposed to deal with the wand. He was not so foolish to believe that he would live forever or that any traps he could place around or on the wand would last very long after his demise. The Unspeakables and the ICW couldn't help and the Enlightened probably wouldn't help. Scratching his head in bemusement, he found he was for the first time in years enjoying working on a project that seemed beyond his capacity to solve. The seriousness of the situation did not dampen how much interest and attention he was pouring into fixing this problem.

Actual containment of the wand was proving difficult too. It caused Fawkes to burst into flames and die when he swallowed it. Apologising to the irate chick, the headmaster pondered.

And pondered and pondered.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

As it turned out, the solution was a great help in the entrapment of Lord Voldemort.


	9. Chapter 9: Nothing so simple

**AEU Chapter 9**

It was fair to say that Draco Malfoy was an altogether disagreeable person in Harry's opinion.

Whilst he recognised that the boy had grown up surrounded by his elitist, propaganda spewing parents, Malfoy himself was a bully and an incredibly smug prick in and out of class. He seemed particularly hostile towards 'Muggle-borns' including Hermione, who was doing her best to bravely ignore him altogether at this point.

Harry had caught her crying twice in two different corridors before she began to cope a little better. Ron of course was being his usual affable self; on Wednesday he had to serve his third detention for 'attempting to throttle with extreme prejudice' with McGonagall. The sentence would have been higher, but he was, however grudgingly, defending a fellow lion. No one messed with a Gryffindor and got away with it.

Malfoy seemed to be getting the message though, and with Snape slightly less prejudiced against the rest of the houses than usual (according to the older students at least), he was happy to slink off with his 'muscle' after one or two snide comments, though Harry wasn't sure how long the peace would last.

Thursday was looked forward to by both Slytherin and Gryffindor because that was when they would first begin how to fly a broomstick. It was also looked at by apprehension by everyone else, as they would be doing it together.

There were many hilarious and ridiculous stories going up and down the breakfast table about various misdemeanours in the air. For some reason, Ron was gleefully talking about when he nearly hit a hang glider once. Harry was really looking forward to flying lessons and had already begun reading **Quidditch through the Ages**, found by a grateful Hermione in the library a few days after the last incident with Malfoy.

Whilst reading more about the cushioning charm (which he was relieved to find out was on his broomstick), Neville received another package from his grandmother, whom he had apparently lived with since he was very young. Harry was unsure whether his parents were alive or not, and so he hadn't talked to Neville about anything yet.

The parcel contained a Remembrall ('_bad pun_' Harry thought), a glass orb which filled with red smoke when you forgot something.

Of course, it didn't tell you _what_ you had forgotten, leading to an interesting paradox with a cycle of forgetfulness. Apparently the things were used as alerts in hospitals and offices, as a reminder to the staff when they forgot to check something vital (and thus to check everything).

Neville had been given it as a last resort by his grandmother since he was fairly bad at remembering...well, anything. Harry was not really paying attention however; he had already begun to become obsessed with the sport of Quidditch and was looking forward to watching the school games which took place throughout the year.

Hermione was similarly engaged with **Hogwarts: A History** once again and Harry made a mental note to himself to read that book as well. If the ceiling of the Great Hall was anything to go on, Hogwarts was full of wonders that he wanted to learn about.

* * *

Madame Hooch started their class on flying by telling them that the broomstick was not necessarily dangerous as long as precautions were taken.

Apparently bending down to pick up the stick was far too 'Muggle' and so they had to use magic to call them up. Harry's broom shot up to his hand whilst the rest of the group seemed to struggle a little with theirs. The only other broom that had flown up was Malfoy's, and Harry flashed a grin at the other boy despite himself. Was it his imagination or did he get a faint smug grin back? Ron's broom had lifted enough for him to grab it on the third attempt, whilst others were gaining enough confidence to lift their brooms up gradually.

"Now, you must push up from the ground hard, leaning forward slightly on the broom to make sure you don't overbalance yourself. Think carefully about maintain control, not just of the broom but yourselves as well. Panic is your main enemy in the air," Madame Hooch said as she checked each person's grip on their broom.

"Now, on my whistle, those who are ready and ONLY those students will begin," she ordered, kindly giving the more nervous of the class a way out and to see how others coped first.

Harry kicked off from the ground on her sharp whistle, feeling the jolt through his legs as he did so.

But then… He felt the strange sensation of hovering above the ground through no discernible means of support other than the long polished broom he sat upon.

Harry looked around to see if he had enough space to move about to see that five others had taken off successfully. Malfoy was already moving in controlled slow laps of the gathering students and Harry copied what the other boy was doing, turning his broom this way and that whilst willing it to go forwards.

It seemed to be working well and Malfoy nodded at his fellow flier, "All right, scar head?" he said without his usual hint of malice despite the usual insult. Harry nodded gleefully back as he was loving the sensation of flight.

Draco Malfoy looked back at the happy figure on the broomstick in bemusement. This was clearly his first time on a broom and he wore the same delighted face that he himself had when he began his private lessons several years ago. '_Potter is clearly talented'_, the boy grudgingly thought. It was a shame that a wizard such as he had fallen prey already to the foolish opinions that Muggle loving old fool Dumbledore possessed in spades.

Harry rose a little higher as more students joined him in the air. Most were clearly still afraid of flying and stayed close to the ground so the other fliers who were already in the air rose up to give them more space. Madame Hooch had ascertained that the last students were safely hovering in the air before flying up to the advanced group.

Fixing them with a stern glare, "I don't want _anyone_ going over one hundred feet in the air and no flying away from the field," she said before zooming back down to help the other students.

Of course, it was only about thirty seconds before Malfoy was speeding across the field extremely quickly. Harry was experimenting with fast turns and manoeuvrability when Neville panicked on his broom and shot vertically upwards, clinging on for dear life. Harry reacted immediately, levelled his broom at Neville's and spurted upwards too, with the aim of trying to catch up with the already flagging figure on it.

He saw another person at his side also chasing the broom and started when he saw that it was Malfoy and not Madame Hooch as he had expected. The Slytherin just glanced quickly at Harry before concentrating on where he was going.

The two were gaining on the rouge broom when Neville fell. It was lucky that both boys were paying attention otherwise he would have smacked right into them. As it was, they both reached out, grabbing an arm each before both their brooms and their arms protested about the strain they were going through.

Madame Hooch finally caught up with them as they began their long descent to ground level, firing a charm that levitated Neville onto her larger adult broom before motioning for the two other boys to follow her down to the ground.

Harry was still tingling with adrenaline when he saw the glass Remembrall fall out of Neville's pocket.

As he watched the orb fall through the air, instinct suddenly took hold of him as he found himself shooting forwards on his broom to the shock of the other three.

The ground was rushing up beneath him as he snatched the ball out of the air, pulling up from his dive before landing roughly in the dirt. He allowed himself a quick grin at the unharmed object in his hand before mentally kicking himself for doing something so reckless in front of the teacher.

He was going to get into so much trouble for all of this…

* * *

Professor McGonagall rushing towards him with a white face and an exceptionally angry expression did not make him feel any better about his situation.

"What on Earth…what were you…you could have been _killed_!" the professor was furious and spluttering out various parts of sentences.

The students looked on as Neville was whisked off to the Hospital Wing whilst Harry was forced to follow behind McGonagall after she listened to a quiet word from Hooch.

Malfoy's usual group were packing up their stuff when Madame Hooch thanked him for helping with Neville.

"It's okay professor. My flight instructor told me to always to help out others in the air," Malfoy shrugged off the teacher with a tint of red on his face when his fellow Slytherins looked at him.

"What? He was in trouble, I helped him out and got rewarded for it," he said as Hooch walked off, referring to the twenty points he received for his house.

"What about Potter though?" Nott asked with curiosity.

"I don't know what happened with him. He came to help out Longbottom before just diving off to catch that silly thing Longbottom had at breakfast," Malfoy told him with a hint of respect at the other boy's flying ability.

It would be interesting to crush him when both could apply for their respective house teams in the second year.

* * *

Harry of course was beginning to become very nervous with the lack of punishment dealt out to him so far. The professor had considered him for a moment before walking off, leaving him tagging behind with a growing sense of trepidation in his stomach that was quite unlike the pleasant one he had during that dive.

It turned out they were going to see Oliver Wood, a sturdily built boy from Fifth year, whom looked at both Harry and the professor curiously as they went back out into the corridor.

"Wood, I have found you a Seeker," said McGonagall with an enthusiastic voice.

Oliver Wood looked delighted as he shook Harry's hand and made an appointment with him to go to the Quidditch pitch for practice. Harry looked questioningly at his head of house. She was smiling at him like he hadn't seen since the first transfiguration class when he had made his matchsticks silver and pointy.

"Well, we can't really punish you for acting like a true Gryffindor and saving Mr Longbottom, and your skill with catching that little ball marks you out to have potential to play as a Seeker in a Quidditch team," she explained. "Of course," she said, turning stern, "do not do this sort of thing all of the time Mr Potter."

He gulped as she drew a small smile again, "Your father would be proud. He was a fine Quidditch player too."

* * *

Hogwarts was in a state of unrest as it transpired from the other first years to the rest of the school precisely what Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had done.

In a rare event, the two tall Weasley twins had rung Malfoy's hand profusely before grinning and sitting at their own table.

Whilst looking at Malfoy's blustered expression (which was the probable reaction the twins wanted from him) was enjoyable to most, Harry had been inundated with admirers for his actions, as much as he tried to downplay them, which seemed to make them admire him more. Blushing a deep red when the crowd finally dispersed back to their own houses, he sat down next a laughing Ron, a still shell-shocked Neville and a reproving Hermione.

Catching her eye, he said, "Look I know it was stupid. I don't know why I did it but I did. We didn't lose any points and Neville is safe."

She responded with a curt smile and a nod, but he knew that this probably wasn't the last time he would hear about this...she rather unfairly never seemed to let things go, or forget anything. Whilst studying once, he saw her read about _six_ books in one evening, hefty though they were, and he was amazed at this nonmagical but still incredible feat of mental gymnastics. Harry had a reasonably good memory himself, never seeming to forget narratives or details others left out of their work but Hermione was in a league of her own.

Ron was bolting down his dinner once again like he had been starved half of his life. By now everyone was used to his antics and had learnt enough magic to remove gravy stains from their own clothes reasonably well. Perhaps that was unfair however, for every Weasley child had clearly had table manners conditioned into them to the point that even he had no elbows on the table.

Talking with his mouth open was apparently beyond even his mother though.

Harry reflected on Ron's abilities. He wasn't a deep thinker or a studious person ('_yet?' _Harry thought) and indeed suffered from an excessively disproportionate amount of laziness that made it difficult for him to do anything. Yet he came from a very talented family (as much as Harry could make out) and seemed to have a brain of his own as well. Harry found that out the hard way when Ron began teaching him chess. Both were fascinated by tactics and strategy, Harry making a mental note to get Ron some nonmagical books about great generals at some point in the future. _'If only the lazy git put effort into things,'_ Harry thought on more than one occasion after being buried by Ron at the game. It was incredible to Harry that Ron didn't apply so much of himself to everything else that he did to this sport.

Ron and Hermione did not get on very well. She was turning out to be a compulsive nag of the idle, and still seemed to possess the unfortunate habit of being an _insufferable_ know-it-all when talking to anyone other than a teacher. Ron, because he did little in his spare time that was observable to others, became a prime target for her nagging. He in turn was sometimes very rude and inconsiderate towards her and some other students, yet was funny and decent most of the time. Harry supposed the meanness came out of simple jealousy, that others had a drive he lacked. He hoped that his friend would grow out of it soon, because everyone was starting to get a little sick of 'Weasley tantrums', as the twins had aptly dubbed them.

All this made Harry wonder what people felt and thought about him. For the first time in his life, he minded what they thought. He didn't know why, how or even what he was trying to prove but he tried more in one day at Hogwarts than he had every other day in his life. It felt like breathing to him, the magic, the learning; it was something he had been (apparently) born to do and to do well. That feeling was good, despite himself knowing that it was also quite self-centred. Still...Hogwarts was becoming a home.

* * *

The dinner this evening was particularly wonderful as Harry had discovered a great dessert that Ron, of course, immediately recognised as Treacle Tart. He gave him a questioning look that asked how he didn't know that, having yet to be informed of Harry's less than stellar upbringing. Hermione noticed too from further down the table, leaving her even more suspicious of the overly skinny boy who deflected all questions concerning his past.

Hermione herself had good parents, with her mother being a practising dentist whilst her father had moved on from there to becoming a medical professor. They both encouraged her to be the best she could be. More than that though, to understand what was around her in the world and to find her place within it. Of course, she was now faced with many new routes and opportunities now that she knew magic was _a thing_; however she still wanted to know more...know _everything_.

And 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' was a mystery she was determined to solve.


	10. Chapter 10: Bathroom break

**AEU Chapter 10**

"Now class, remember that the three building blocks of a successful spell are:

1\. The Incantation.

2\. The Concentration.

and

3\. The Magical Willpower.

That is, the words used to use the spell and the required wand movements, the mental discipline of focusing on what you want to happen, and having the magical willpower, or more commonly, the confidence to achieve the desired effects."

Professor Flitwick finished his summary of what the Charms class had learnt so far that year with an added twist; he had decided to now teach them how to levitate items. This caused a cacophony of excited murmurs and whispers throughout the class, as the students had been looking forward to this particular lesson since the amazing flying Trevor 'incident' a few weeks ago. The tiny wizened old professor was much like the Headmaster in that he seemed to take everything in his stride. He allowed the class to continue talking for a few moments more, silently delighted that once again, more students were becoming interested in Charms.

"Enough please," he eventually said. "Now, take note of the _incantation_ needed to create the spell," he instructed before swishing and flicking his wand in a slow movement to allow all to see.

"Make sure the swish is not too long and the flick not too small," he advised, "And add in the phrase **_Wingardium Leviosa_**, with you saying it whilst doing the motion with the aim of finishing both parts of the incantation at the same time. As long as your mind is focused on the object you wish to levitate, you do not need to point your wand at it, though I recommended doing so at least for your first few tries."

Seeing the class repeat and duplicate the incantation properly a few times, Flitwick snapped his fingers and feathers appeared on top of all the students' desks.

"Whilst _weight_ has no real effect on the charm," he explained, "starting with something with a smaller _mass_ will aid you, although it's mostly just to boost your confidence."

The students eagerly set to work, trying to levitate the feathers off of their desks. It was proving to be difficult as many had simply wafted their feathers to the floor whilst going through the motions. It turned out that eleven and twelve year old children were not quite so brilliant yet at skilful hand movements or saying long, complex words in Latin.

Ron was wind milling his arms in desperation and was amusing Harry greatly before Flitwick gave him a questioning look. Harry started suddenly as he realised he had not attempted to do the charm yet as when he was about to try, Ron's antics caught his eye.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the two sitting two benches in front of her, sending her feather smoothly into the air. Not one to give up, Harry performed the charm on his feather twice before also managing to send it up into the air. Both smiled when the professor complimented them both before showing both how to stop their feather from spinning uncontrollably around and how to vary the speeds of ascent and descent.

"Is this used on brooms, sir?" Harry asked Flitwick whilst the teacher was showing Ron the swish and flick motion again.

"Pardon? Oh, yes indeed Mr Potter, it is part of the enchantment of the broom and originally the only one. Over time, more were added such as...dear me...such as the cushioning charm and the varying speed modification," the old wizard said approvingly before moving on to help Seamus Finnigan, who was shooting sparks out of his wand that appeared to be setting a few things on fire, such as Neville Longbottom.

"Do you think perhaps the charm can be used on humans?" Hermione Granger asked eagerly, to no one in particular. Ron scowled at her remark.

He had still yet to make anything fly.

* * *

At the end of the lesson, he was still stewing when he and Harry walked out. Harry himself thought that Ron was suffering in the confidence department, having had several brothers showing a great deal of talent growing up was probably stressing him out now he was at Hogwarts. The past week had been hard on the youngest brother too, as Charms and Transfiguration had started demanding more and more in both class time and as homework. Ron had spent a few sleepless nights not only going over his essays but, Harry suspected, panicking that he was letting his family down.

Harry decided to let his friend stew for the moment, knowing that any conversation would almost certainly lead Ron to vent at the closest living thing to him. Unfortunately, it was at that moment that Hermione decided to start show up, ignoring Ron's thunderous expression and addressing Harry only.

"Hi Harry, you did well in that last class. I really enjoyed it myself. I was fascinated by the spell when I came across it in my books…" she raved at what seemed to Harry to be the speed of light. "Of course, doing it on things with magical cores is _theoretically_ as easy but-",

"EASY!" Ron roared at that last comment.

Hermione wilted under his gaze and shrank back.

"You really are a nightmare, do y' know that, Little-Miss-Perfect! Do you think everyone is as magnificently smart-arsed as you? Do you think everyone has time for your gibberish?" Ron snarled, letting out all of his pent up frustration of what seemed to be the past month at least.

"You-"

But Ron never finished this latest comment for Hermione burst into tears and hurried away down the corridor.

Harry and Ron stared after her, stunned. Harry gave Ron an angry glance before taking off after the girl, his friend still frozen in shock with a growing realization that he had gone too far spreading across his face.

Harry wasn't going to wait for him though. Whilst Hermione was annoying sometimes, she didn't deserve to be Ron's outlet for emotions. He had noticed she had trouble making friends over the past few days and with a pang felt within himself someone who he could have been were he not famous or idolised, a lonely child with a library of wonders to read but no one to talk to.

It wasn't difficult for him to follow Hermione's trail through the school, judging by some of the wet marks on the walls she was literally bouncing off them and clearly not looked where she was going. Praying that he wouldn't run into Peeves or a prefect, Harry walked quietly into the girl's bathroom that Hermione had taken refuge in. He listened to the sobbing behind the locked door of a cubicle before he shook his shoulders and tapped softly on the door.

* * *

Hermione ran from the two boys in front of her. Before she turned around she noticed the looks of shock on both their faces but she didn't pay much attention to them as her eyes welled with tears before spilling them out and down her face.

She crashed into a few walls as she ran and attracted a few stares from onlookers but ignored all of them.

Hermione played the last conversation through her mind again. She had been elated when she had performed the charm well and interested when _Harry Potter_ talked to the professor about the charm in relation to transport.

According to her own studies, few people could maintain the spell long enough to allow for any real flight themselves, but with powerful enchantments and with the aid of runes, several people had made some journeys across the English Channel, and even the Atlantic using modified versions of the charm on objects.

She wanted to tell someone about this, no longer content to just be satisfied she learnt something but to have a conversation about it with someone else.

Harry was becoming something of a star within their classes, quietly impressing Professor McGonagall with his efforts in Transfiguration and even seemingly gaining the grudging respect of Professor Snape in his class.

He was like her, a newcomer to the field of magic, yet had also excelled within it to become one of the best in her year. Hermione loved a challenge and having someone who started on the same level as her and performing as well as her pushed her into doing better. She knew she was still outstripping everyone in the essays and the other written parts of the courses, but the practice sides were always going to be more _impressive_ anyway.

Of course, she hadn't really _spoken_ much to him yet but she wanted to at least try to become friends with him, eager to have another person to help study with and just…be around.

She was being foolish of course; she knew that now as she barged into the bathroom and locked the doors of one of the cubicles.

No one, but no one, liked her here.

When she began talking with Harry-no, _at_ Harry, he seemed to be taken aback with her eagerness to talk. His friend of course butted in almost immediately.

Ron Weasley had never been that polite with her, in fact sometimes he was the person she most hated in the Common Room, but he seemed to have finally lost his limited patience. Hermione wouldn't have minded one person…but it was everyone around her who hated her. She began crying again, eyes straining and throat aching as she went deeper and deeper into despair.

She was not expecting a knock on the door.

And she definitely wasn't expecting Harry Potter's voice to come from the other side of it.

Hermione peered up from her uncomfortable position. She kicked herself for being too noisy but at the same time was slightly comforted that someone noticed.

"Sorry Harry," she sniffed weakly.

"No, _I'm_ sorry for what Ron said. He's been worked up for a while now and…um...well, there's no excuse for what he did and if you want me to go, I'll understand but I just wanted to apologise for him and…everyone else too I guess. None of us have treated you properly and I'm sorry about that," Harry spoke quickly, pausing now and then to make sure he got his message across properly.

He was feeling rotten about all of this, particularly about being mean to someone as new to this world as he was. It was also an awkward position to be in, trying to comfort her in the girl's bathroom. Actually it was mortifying and he prayed to God that someone, anyone would rescue him from this predicament.

Except maybe Snape.

Hermione was taken aback by the unreserved apology he had just given her. Her mind was telling her to accept and walk away but the rest of her was still sore from the insults and the crying.

"Harry?" she said after a minute, not entirely sure if he was still there or not.

"Yes Hermione?" he said almost instantly, startling her a bit before she calmed herself.

"_Thank you_," she said softly through the door, trying to put as much of the relief and gratitude she felt towards him at this moment through her words.

Harry shuffled his feet and said, "Umm, you're welcome, though really I should have done something about all of this sooner. Can you…can you open the door please, Hermione?"

She nodded, realised he couldn't see her nod and unlocked the door before pulling herself up.

Harry flinched when he opened the door to see Hermione's tear stained face. Her eyes were red and raw, her nose was running a little and she was still shaking slightly, swaying side to side as she stood there.

He bowed his head in shame and said, "I'm sorry," again and again.

She seemed to have forgiven him though as she smiled, a small, weak smile, but a genuine one, before she stepped towards the sink to was her face.

She glanced at him before shouting, "Harry Potter! Get out of the girl's bathroom!"

He looked at here in astonishment before legging it out of the door, bewildered as to whether she wanted him to stick around or not. Hermione giggled as he burst out of the room and finished drying her eyes before leaving to catch him up.

Neither of them knew it but this rocky start was to be the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.


	11. Chapter 11: The beast below

**AEU Chapter 11**

Hagrid was wandering around his beloved pumpkin patch, picking out the largest and juiciest pumpkins to send to the kitchens when he heard Hedwig's usual hoot as she landed on the allotment fence. Beaming in delight, Hagrid looked up to see Harry and a bushy haired girl walking along the path to his hut. Harry had been visiting him every week now since the start of term and Hagrid found that the boy was as delightful as his mother and father were.

The boy also seemed to be one of the only people in Hogwarts' long history to eat and even enjoy his cooking.

Whilst Harry had at first simply eaten his rock cakes, which was a fine accomplishment for anyone who didn't have metal teeth, he had for the past few visits been baking with Hagrid, having served (quite literally) his adopted 'family' since he was five.

Hagrid was actually a fairly good cook but tended to put either the wrong amounts of ingredients into his cooking or left them over the fire for too long. Harry however, had encouraged Hagrid's interest and had talked and taught baking in equal measure, vastly improving Hagrid's repertoire of food until most of the teachers could be seen at one time or another, after a difficult class in the week perhaps, coming in to have cakes and tea with Hagrid.

All in all, Harry was fast becoming a little brother or perhaps even a son in Hagrid's eyes and it was with pride in his heart that he saw Harry finding himself fitting in at Hogwarts and excelling, yet also keeping to his rather courteous and generous nature that his stint with the Muggles had not beaten out of him. So of course he was delighted at the prospect of seeing both Harry and what appeared to be a new friend coming to see him this afternoon.

"Alright Harry?" the giant man boomed out in his deep voice.

"Yes, thank you Hagrid," the boy called out cheerfully back, before motioning to the girl beside him once they had gotten closer to where Hagrid was standing.

"Hagrid, this is Hermione Granger, a…recent new friend of mine," Harry explained.

Hagrid did not miss the falter in Harry's voice when he spoke about them being friends. He looked at the girl and noticed the fading red tinge under and around her eyes that showed she had been in some distress recently.

"Hello Hermione," he said cheerfully at the young girl looking uncertainly up at him.

Bending down, he said in a quieter voice, "You look like you need a bit of tea in yeh, right abou' now," gently indicating that she could talk to him if she wanted to, but didn't have to.

Hermione brightened at the mention of tea, her mother especially loved the various mixtures available and her home always smelled of really fragrant tea.

She nodded politely before saying hello herself to the friendly man who seemed to be getting bigger the more she looked at him. Hermione was still fairly small, as most of the students in the first year were, and yet this man was colossal.

She wondered for a while as she was led inside by Harry about what could have happened to him to make him so…_so_; the mental process calming her down as much as Harry's presence and Hagrid's demeanour.

The inside of the cabin, well, it was more of a hut in truth, was nice and warm in comparison to the sharp frosty air outside. The whole room smelt of various parts of different bakes: bread, cake and pies being some of the few she could identify. Hanging down from the ceiling were various cuts of meats as well as…

"Hagrid, is that Unicorn hair?" she pointed at the silvery strands that seemed to glow despite the lack of light shining on them.

"Oh, yeah they catch themselves on branches sometimes and I collect the stuff for bandages," the man answered, looking up at her with new interest as soon as magical creatures were mentioned.

Harry, who was carefully laying out cups, saucers and plates, explained that, "Hagrid is something of an expert in magical creatures, particularly the more_ interesting_ ones," leaving Hermione in no doubt that the 'interesting' ones were presumably the ones with lots of teeth.

Hagrid gave an amused snort as he said to Harry, "Now Harry, dragons are seriously misunderstood creatures," the way he said 'dragon' made them out to be awe inspiring, which Hermione was quite sure they were – just, not in a good way.

* * *

The two students spent a long time at Hagrid's.

Classes had finished for the day with Charms, due to an old Hogwarts tradition of leaving most of the afternoon free for pranks, a tradition the Weasley twins took _extremely _seriously.

Finally Harry, who had been cheerful and talkative to both other people, had become rather quiet, fumbling with his empty tea cup. Hermione was concerned before she caught Hagrid looking sadly at Harry, but also being sad himself. She then realised it was on this day, not so many years ago that Voldemort (a peculiar French sounding name, according to her mother) had come to the village of Godric's Hollow and murdered Harry's parents, and where he himself found his downfall.

Hermione's heart went out to the silent little boy and she took one of his hands in hers whilst Hagrid somewhat heavily patted him on the back. This seemed to bring Harry around to his surroundings (if somewhat jarringly) and he smiled a little up at the ceiling before getting up as Hagrid reminded both students the feast would be starting fairly soon.

The first snow had not yet fallen but the ground was already frosting over as the group walked up to the magnificent visage of Hogwarts. Hermione was still chatting happily to Hagrid; the man had turned out to be extremely knowledgeable on bush craft, forestry and magical creatures. Since none of this was taught until third year, she quizzed him ruthlessly on his knowledge. Hagrid himself was delighted another student apart from Harry was willing to learn from him considering his appearance, which while he himself had come to accept as part of his being, others were still afraid of his height and strength.

"Hagrid, what's so special about tonight's feast?" Harry asked him as they entered the mighty doors of the entrance hall.

In response, Hagrid pointed towards the Great Hall interior, which was lit up by thousands of floating jack o' lanterns, along with swarms of live bats and swooping chains of orange and purple ribbon. The ghosts, normally present at meal times any way, looked much more at home to Harry in this decorated space.

Hagrid left them to join the teacher's table at the end of the hall whilst Harry ran up alongside the Gryffindor section to find a very sheepish looking Ron whose mumbled apologies to Hermione were quickly accepted by her with the promise he would not say such things again. He seemed surprised at the more cordial relationship the pair had, but accepted it with less than a shrug. Ron was hardly in a position to claim any high ground. Harry was a bit disappointed but not really surprised by the rather pitiful apology, but he recognised everyone involved just wanted to get it all behind them. To be honest, he had no idea, not really having much social interaction before, as to what equated a proper apology or not. The tragedies he had read were very melodramatic about the subject.

The feast itself was wonderful, with many assorted meats, pies, salads, sides, drinks and sweets to satisfy even Ron's legendary stomach. Harry found himself eating rather a lot before the sight of Ron eating his forty second drumstick of chicken stopped him for a while.

He asked Hermione about the enchanted ceiling, since she had already read **Hogwarts: A History** completely by now. It was apparently originally just a normal ceiling until, one night, Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor made it take on the form of the night's sky above them as a demonstration to a seventh year class about the power and beauty of combining both charms, transfiguration and rune craft to make something _more_. This was much enjoyed by the class and repeated requests by first year students to show various different skies led to Slytherin suggesting making the enchantment permanent and to show the sky above the great hall at any given time.

This brief history lesson was already more interesting than the drivel Professor Binns had droned at them in his monotone voice, leaving many snoozing in his class whilst Harry himself tried to make sense of the various rebellions against wizards over their history.

'_The other races do not seem to like our own, perhaps for good reason,_' Harry thought to himself on one occasion when he listened in disbelief about the day when the various goblin nations went to war with the wizards _repeatedly_ on the same sunny afternoon in Ipswich.

So ran the thoughts of Harry as he continued to laugh, joke and eat that night. It seemed like the party could go on for hours when the doors of the hall suddenly opened and Professor Quirrell came screaming out of them, his face bright red with exertion and his mouth open in a loud yell.

"TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!" he roared afore the rising Headmaster, before weakly saying, "Thought you better know."

He fell forward onto the floor in a dead faint. Harry was a bit surprised at this. He had never seen anyone fall flat on their faces before in a faint, usually the knees buckled under you before you dropped. And what was Professor Quirrell doing down in the dark dungeons instead of eating this great feast? He pondered this thought for a moment before the students collectively started screaming and running around.

'_Oh right. There's a troll._'

"Silence!" the headmaster said in a commanding voice few but the Weasley twins had ever heard before.

"There is no reason to panic at this time," Albus Dumbledore continued in a quieter voice.

His mind raced to decide how to respond to this latest gambit of the man face down in front of him. Should he take the bait and clear the hall? No, that would risk the Slytherin House, who resided near the dungeons.

"All students will stay here and stay calm. Prefects, you shall be in charge here under Professor McGonagall," he said, nodding at the prefects and his deputy head.

"Madame Pomfrey, may you please attend to our fallen teacher," he motioned toward Quirrell.

In a quiet voice only the teachers could hear, he asked, "Severus, please seal the dungeons. We shall be with you shortly once the rest of us have ascertained that the wards, the entrance gate and the walls are intact. I doubt that we will find anything, but we must take proper steps to ensure our security."

All teachers nodded before scurrying off to their assigned tasks. He sighed briefly. He was enjoying his goulash very much. Oh well, he thought as his old bones creaked him into standing again, a monster at Halloween seemed more appropriate than any other time.

* * *

"So…Trolls?" Harry asked the table at large.

"Yeah, there are a few around here because of the mountains I expect. Always wondered how to get on into Snape's bedroom," Fred Weasley mused as the others laughed.

"I want to know how it got in, they are not really known for being all that bright," Ron said, looking around as if someone around him knew the answer.

"Why now?" Harry asked. "If Peeves wanted to prank someone, he wouldn't have put it in the dungeons whilst we were all up here. If someone wanted to cause damage to someone here, again they would have sent the troll through here."

Everyone looked at him with interest as he continued to dissect the situation.

"The only reason I can think of for someone doing this _now_, in the dungeons is if they wanted all the teachers and all the attention down there whilst all the students were sent to their dorms. The only problem is, I have no clue as to why they would want to distract everyone unless-"

"Unless they were going to break in somewhere else, somewhere that would normally be heavily guarded or watched," Hermione finished.

The five friends looked at each other, knowing that this felt like the truth of the matter.

"So what's worth stealing in this place?" Ron said interestedly, "Perhaps in Dumbledore's office or in the restricted section in the library?"

"Probably something Filch confiscated ages ago that was really valuable. He isn't the smartest, he wouldn't know what it was," George Weasley offered.

Harry was puzzling over the possibilities until he suddenly straightened in his seat and said in a new tone of voice, "Or maybe it's in a mysteriously sealed-off section of the castle no one has been in since the start of term."

Ron and Hermione gasped and the twin's eyes widened as Harry continued, "Of course, it doesn't make much sense that the teachers would bring that to our attention but…well I don't know, perhaps they wanted someone to give up trying to get whatever they are guarding. Hogwarts is fairly impregnable."

'_Except to 12 ft. high trolls,_' he thought before slapping that down. Something about impregnable defences resonated in his brain however, and it rattled around in his head whilst the others continued.

"Maybe they want to lure whoever it is here so they can capture him. As you say, the castle is very easy to lock down to keep intruders out…or to keep them in," Hermione postulated.

"A bit dodgy, doing this in a school full of kids, don't you think?" Ron said with a disturbed glance at the door.

"Oh. Oh!" Harry said, before the other's hushed him. "Sorry," he whispered sheepishly, "but what if the Gringotts robbers are behind this. Isn't this the only other place in Britain with-?"

"-that insane amount of magical protection? Yeah!" Ron said loudly, before another round of shushes broke out. "Still, that makes it even scarier cos it means they can probably get in...with us inside."

"I can only assume that the person or persons unknown who were willing to break into Gringotts for one vault without taking anything else would be very focused on whatever is in the locked corridor and not the student body that holds no value to them," Hermione explained to Ron, sounding hopeful that this was the case, though Harry privately had doubts about this.

* * *

The troll was swiftly found and easily defeated by the teachers, and the group left the hall that night with each individual wondering about what it was that could be behind the locked door.

Professor Quirrell seemed perfectly alright and was his usual self the next day, quivering all over the classroom in fright of various threatening gusts of wind and shadows.

Whilst Harry had hit a wall on the mystery of the strange happenings at Hogwarts, he was happy to reflect that at least he had made three new friends in Hermione Granger and the two Weasley brothers who were not Percy. The fact that Snape was looking a little shell-shocked and his clothes had a peculiar smell of dog about them flew right over his and everyone else's heads.


	12. Chapter 12: Not so, Severus

**AEU Chapter 12**

Severus Snape was in the depths of an emotional crisis the likes of which he had not seen since his loathed childhood.

His quandary was worsening his mood more so than the near miss from the Cerberus or the fact one of his favourite prowling dungeon spaces now smelt of troll piss. Ever since the Potter boy had entered Hogwarts, he had thrown a spanner in Snape's decade old mourning of his true love by making him question exactly what type of love he felt for Lily Evans.

For a man with no moral beliefs or friends, the certainty of his affection was the only constant thing in his life, other than the presence of Albus Dumbledore, he supposed. Without this though...what was there for him to strive for? How could he continue to care about anything?

'_The problem is, I couldn't be happy for her even when she clearly found happiness with another. I was perfectly prepared to destroy her son when he arrived out of spite of Potter, and I always think about Lily before we both went to Hogwarts...the girl that was my friend, more than the young woman that I pushed away from me.'_

_'How could I…How could I have called her that…that name?' _

The only logical answer, and Snape always prided himself on being what that wretched Black criminal called 'a cold, logical bastard', was that he had an extremely large emotional attachment to Lily, his first friend, yet did not see, '_no, didn't want to see'_ that she had grown beyond that girl into a different person, who was still lovely but not _his_ Lily, his fascination for so many young years.

Was that it? Was is for this that he had suffered and obsessed over for so long? Something so empty?

Snape found to his surprise that he was crying, crying for the first time in twenty years over the horrendous things he had done in the name of this pretend love, this imagined spite. He cried for Potter's cruelty for making him look for a reason to hate him further, which he found in Lily's growing interest in the wonder boy Chaser. Snape cried, for his soul had been crying internally for so long over his life and could go no further.

* * *

Eventually, the professor quietened in his seat by the small fire he maintained within his rooms.

He knew he would probably take another few days (or months) to get over the harsh realization, and it would probably take ten years more before he got over the whole affair. Frowning for a moment, he realised that his bonds to Dumbledore no longer really applied to this new Snape…but that he owed Lily still for being his friend and for at least being regretful after _he_ ended their friendship.

Potter himself…his antics, his arrogance and his bullying still existed unimpaired in Snape's memory but now he owed his memory too, for giving his friend what he could not and making her _happy_.

And James Potter did save him when that utter sadist Black decided to try and get him eaten by a werewolf. He didn't know what that fool was thinking. If his crime had succeeded, his little friend would have been put down. Severus would be dead...or worse, and Black would be expelled or thrown in prison.

_'Great, now I owe Potter too...could this day get any better?'_

Slytherin House was a shadow of its former self. All the dunderheaded sons and daughters of Death Eaters, most of whom who _had not even been in that house_, begged the hat to let them get in. For Merlin's sake, this was supposed to be the house of ambition, and these morons would like nothing better than to allow a dictator (who wasn't themselves) lord over everyone. Like it or not, intelligent, independent people were the first to go whenever a tyrant appeared. Snape only survived by grovelling, and even then, had he not convinced the mad bastard of his worth of a spy, he would have been fed to Nagini a long time ago.

Malfoy's spawn, his own little godson, was a massive disappointment. It would take some hard lessons to teach that boy anything useful.

Snape wondered what to do about all of this. Except...he knew what he had to do. He had to _act, _as he had never before performed_. _Slytherin could be great again, he knew it thus. The school and the country needed some cunning to go with its bravery, intelligence and determination. Cunning was vital in war, and Snape knew a war was coming the likes of which had never been seen before. His own selfishness had unbalanced the order of the school, and thus the school suffered. What he could do in the short term was questionable.

The long term though...that was the realm of clever plots and nasty tricks. How very Slytherin.

* * *

Harry Potter would need to be told all of this one day, the potions master mused.

Should he write it down?

Could the boy calmly sit through his verbal explanation? He seemed...well, Severus had been teaching children for a long time and observing them for far longer than that. And everything that he had learnt told him something was seriously _wrong_ with that boy. He didn't want to be paranoid but the last time he had seen anything like him was in someone else's memories. What it could mean, he didn't know.

One thing the man did know however, was that he was willing to end the feud between himself and the Potters, as James Potter ceased to hurt him before the end of fifth year…and he even seemed apologetic and more than that, embarrassed, in his attitude towards him for the remaining years at Hogwarts.

Snape wondered whether Lily had made him change so much, or whether the arrogant bully he grew to hate and fear for five years simply became…better.

Could he, the regretful survivor of the last war, achieve the same now?

Was it too late for him?

In the morning, he would go to Dumbledore and explain some of what he had admitted to himself. It was as Snape thought this that he had the curious yet absurd notion that Dumbledore perhaps _knew_ this all along and had given him the time and space to come to this realisation himself.

The professor did not know whether to feel angry or touched by the headmaster's faith in him. But of course, no one could possibly know people that well.

As the man swept around the room to collect various items he would need for tomorrows lessons, his mind once again ran to Harry Potter.

The boy he knew now was nothing like the self-entitled, arrogant prick he thought that he would be. Whilst Snape had a much better attitude in public now, he knew that he would have to do better in order to regain the respect of the rest of the staff and at least the attention of the students. He felt strange as the realisation hit that he _wanted_ to show he could and would be better, to prove that Dumbledore was right to put up with him for so long and to show Harry that his parents were nothing if not worthy of his love. Much humbled, but so much wiser, Professor Snape went to bed that night with a feeling that he had never felt so strongly in his life.

Hope.


	13. Chapter 13: Up in the air

**AEU Chapter 13**

_'The origins and conception of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are lost to the ages, with no surviving records, paintings or prophesies from that period in Scottish history __(1)._

_What is clear however was that a school for the magically gifted of Great Britain and the surrounding islands was sorely needed, as it was about this time that Muggles began truly to attack and destroy magic and its practitioners, due to (amongst other things) the rising power of Christianity among the populace._

_The Wizards Council was presented with a grand scale building plan for a great school of magic that could be built far away from prying Muggle eyes __(2)__ by a group of highly gifted and celebrated warlocks that were of course to become renown worldwide as the founders of Hogwarts._

_Academics agree that Godric Gryffindor found the exact mountain on which the school would be built, and the various quarries that existed further down the mountain ranges at the time provided more than enough high quality stone with which to build a school to last the ages (and to withstand the tremendous pressures of housing many hundreds of adolescent magical wielders)._

_All founders were agreed upon that the magical population would one day require a very large school with which to house all of its children, hence the castle having its impressive size and scope. In the short term, most of Magical Europe used Hogwarts for a time before constructing their own projects to a similar design. Yet Hogwarts, bar some low level disagreements from the continent, remained the finest example of both learning and craftsmanship in the world. To this day, under the management of Albus Dumbledore, the school continues to shine as one of the world's finest._

_Exactly how long the four witches and wizards worked upon the powerful rune wards that were to be enchanted into every single brick, stone and log (3) that went into the construction is unknown, but eyewitnesses report on the large armies of house elves, goblins and rune crafters used to enhance the defences of the castle, making it impervious to whatever damage an out of control youngster could commit, whilst also safe guarding the future generations from the dark forces that ever circle around places of power._

_The wards themselves are unrivalled in all the world, better than anything either man or goblin has come up with since, and surpass those of the British Ministry of Magic or the Prison of Azkaban (4). It is an interesting fact that the wards were worked upon long after the school itself was completed, with the founders tinkering and adding to their strength until each met their death. Salazar Slytherin was the exception, as he had mysteriously disappeared many years before. The tradition of each headmaster and headmistress adding their own protections to the castle are thought to originate from this practice. _

_A notable feature-'_

Harry was interrupted from his reading by his captain Oliver Wood ordering him to bed before the Quidditch match tomorrow. He regretfully shut **Hogwarts: A History **before thanking Hermione for letting him borrow it. The castle felt more like home than he had ever felt at the Dursleys, leading him to want to know more about the swooping spires and high walls of the castle.

Whilst Harry valued exploring the castle itself to learn more about its secrets, a bit of background knowledge could always help, especially as there appeared to be no set map of Hogwarts, what with the walls, the stairs and even the rooms sometimes changing around. From everything he had read and learnt so far, the castle seemed to thrum with energy with perhaps even the wisp of life itself.

Regardless, he had not been able to read too far into the book for his work load had tripled within the past few weeks with teachers cracking the whip to ensure their Christmas tests WOULD be passed at ALL costs.

Quidditch practices had also begun in earnest, proving to Harry that he was right to be afraid that first years usually were not allowed onto the house teams. The training was brutal and Oliver Wood had shown himself to be an obsessive task master dedicated to dragging Gryffindor's sorry arse to first place in the Championship if it killed him and everyone on the team to do it.

Harry was loving the flying side of things. The snitch played right into his hands often, the bludgers were easily swatted away by the Weasley twins who chatted away banally to each other and to him about several matters, such as exactly how to get a toilet seat past Filch to post home. Harry suggested enlisting the help of Peeves to distract the caretaker, possibly by flinging Mrs. Norris into the Black Lake. They chortled at this as they hit both bludgers in perfect sync without looking.

Unfortunately, Wood had also made every member of the team exercise their bodies on the ground to make sure that they were stronger than the other teams in every way. Harry wondered about that. As a Seeker, the lighter he was the better for his play, but he was also honest enough with himself to know that if he were playing a competitive nonmagical sport right now, he would want to be in much better shape than he was. Apparently, the best Seekers were lithe and muscled, just not developing the overly large arms and chest that the Keepers and the Beaters tended to have. Not that he would get anything like that without years of training, at least according to Wood.

* * *

After two weeks of waking up cursing the captain's name multiple times whilst massaging his sore muscles, Harry was looking forward to the first match in order to reassure himself that the pain was worth just a little something.

He was nervous however; McGonagall had let it be known in no uncertain terms to Oliver that Snape was becoming insufferable about his winning streak in the school championship.

It was also the first time he would be presented to the school at large as the Seeker of the Gryffindor side, as he had been kept secret from most everyone to ensure that he wouldn't get attacked, doped, maimed, pranked or abused by the Slytherin side or their supporters. Apparently, the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws were both keen to see someone, anyone win against Slytherin, in both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup. These three houses then, were far more supportive of the Quidditch team when they appeared in the Great Hall. Harry entered soon after to continue the mystery of who the Seeker was.

Hermione was already there at the table and seemed to be in full panic mode for his safety, judging by the even faster pace of her voice than usual, rolling off again and again about the safety record of most Hogwarts Quidditch matches. He nodded mutely and was inwardly writhing in his stomach about the upcoming match but was also touched that she was so worried for him, even if nothing had happened yet.

Professor McGonagall had wished the team luck with one of her rare smiles before extending it to Harry as well. He gave a small grin back before concentrating on the increasingly hard task of eating sausages. Professor Snape was roving around the Slytherins, making them both ready and eager to thrash another team at flying, before he returned to the high table to talk dirt with the Gryffindor matriarch. From the looks of their conversation, if Dumbledore was not there in between them with his beard twitching in amusement, the pair would be trading fists instead of words by now.

Ron came down looking his typically disgruntled morning self before diving into bacon, eggs and brown sauce. The sight deprived Harry of his remaining appetite and earned Ron a few hard looks from students trying to enjoy the early morning quiet before most of the school came down for breakfast.

The new player sighed and stood up with the rest of the team in order to get changed. This earned him a few confused looks and sniggers from what seemed to be everywhere in the hall before the Slytherin table started laugh out loud at what Harry knew appeared to be a tiny and pathetic new member for the untested team. He gritted his teeth and carried on walking out through the doors and onto the winding path that led downhill towards the pitch.

Hermione and Ron were supressing angry remarks and hand gestures as breakfast went on and the Slytherins continue making a song and dance about the ridiculous line up Gryffindor presented to their team. They weren't perhaps the best of friends yet (or even close to that point) but today they were united in trying hard not to curse someone. The whole school looked on in amazement when Snape marched into his house's midst and told them to be respectful, before telling his team to get a move on and go change so they can go win another year's worth of Quidditch. It left the students feeling outright confused.

Why was Snape of all people telling his house to tone it down whilst also being encouraging for the first time in God knows how long?

Hermione and Ron looked at the billowing black figure who was sweeping back towards his seat. He nodded curtly at McGonagall, who looked at him in mild astonishment whilst Dumbledore's eyes, which seemed to have been focused on the enchanted ceiling for the last few minutes, twinkled with light.

* * *

Harry was close to being sick when he saw that the Seeker received fairly little protection except for basic padding on the knees and elbows, along with greaves for his wrists and feet. The Seeker apparently, had to doge everything like a mad house fly rather than be hit, whilst the keeper and the beaters not only wore full face guards but body armour that covered the majority of their playing robes. He tried not to look too jealously at Fred and George whilst they set up.

'_Thanks for telling me that, guys._'

He wouldn't be wearing gloves to prevent sticking charm cheating but could bear his wand in accordance to wizarding law which he remembered both from **Quidditch through the Ages **and History of Magic classes. Harry finally grasped the handle of his new broom. At the first touch of the polished handle, smoothed to perfection, he remembered with a smile exactly how he had gotten this astonishing piece of magical craftsmanship.

* * *

"Er…Harry? I think someone's been in here," Ron said with an odd voice as he went into the boy's dorm.

Harry adopted a quizzical expression on his face. It was just after the headmaster had quietly told the gathered students they could return to their rooms and that the Troll had been dealt with.

"What is it Ron?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Come and have a look mate. Seems someone's Christmas has come early," Ron said, and Harry could hear the grin in his voice this time.

He rushed into the room and on his bed, next to his owl; he saw a beautiful broomstick laid out across the sheets, with a letter on top. He opened it with fumbling fingers and so read:

_'Mr Potter, hopefully this letter will find you well._

_This is your new broomstick for the coming season of Quidditch as the school brooms leave much to be desired. As I'm sure Mr Weasley will tell you, this is a Nimbus 2000 and the very finest broom the Nimbus Company produces (and you are not concern yourself with cost. When I informed the president of the company that James Potter's son was in need of a broomstick he donated this to you along with his encouragements)._

_Please do NOT treat this gift lightly and good luck in the coming match._

_Professor McGonagall'_

Harry Potter grinned broadly at the second real present he had ever received, placing it back next to his first: Hedwig.

Ron moaned in awe at the broomstick and Harry motioned to him to examine it, which he did with glee. Whilst Hermione smiled at the news herself, Ron seemed to truly be blown over by the event for the next few days, seeming to wish to break into song before every lesson. Quietly, Harry had confided in Hermione about the unsettling feeling he had about another person's charity, particularly as this was new to him. She listened whilst Fred and George were filled in by Ron about the exact sheen the handle of the broom had and seemed sympathetic but not, as he learned, about this feeling but at the thought he had received few gifts before.

"You've really not had a nice time of it, have you Harry?" she said sadly before adding, "Well, you do have friends now that are going to give you things as gifts. This is a good thing, as long as you don't take either them or the gifts for granted, though I suspect you will not."

Harry nodded; this made some sort of sense.

"Oh and by the way, you should fully expect gifts this Christmas, so you might want to start shopping around for things your friends might like," she said with a smile.

"Is that a subtle hint?" he asked with a growing grin. Hermione answered with a squeeze of his hand before running off to complete her Potions homework.

* * *

That had been a while ago now and Harry was waiting for his mail orders to come back so he could wrap them. All other thoughts were quashed as the team trooped out onto the Quidditch pitch. The morning air was cold, the ground was crackling under their feet as they walked; Harry was quietly glad the ground was hard enough to allow them to kick off quicker.

Madame Hooch served as the referee and she waited for a moment, scanning both teams with her piercing gaze before indicating the captains forward to shake, or rather in their case, crush each other's hands. Wood walked away wincing slightly whilst the others mounted their brooms waiting on Hooch's whistle. The sharp pipe on the whistle sound through the stadium as all figures on the ground shot up into the air as the crowd began roaring for their respective teams. Harry's hair rustled in ever messier ways as he banked and swooped around the stadium watching for a glitter of gold. He knew from practice that the snitch could not leave that area, so it was a matter of searching his surroundings for the ball. In in the meantime however…

He rolled suddenly to avoid a bludger that went careening through the air at him, its signature whistle as it tore around the players indicative of its dangerously high speed.

"Watch yourself Harry!" Fred Weasley called at him whilst smashing the bludger into Marcus Flint's face.

The opposing sides' captain spluttered and gurgled as his face erupted with blood. He dropped like a fly down to the ground and had to be saved from a crushing landing by the referee, who motioned to the medic to see to him before leaping into the air once more.

The Slytherin side, now a man down, took an affront to this disadvantage and were extremely aggressive as a result. Despite of this, Wood pulled off some magnificent saves whilst the Chaser players ramped up five goals between them. Harry had yet to see the elusive Snitch but was hopeful he could end the game before one of the gorilla Beaters on Slytherin took exception to his being there.

* * *

In the stands, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid were cheering on the house team whilst Neville was trying not to be squashed by the jubilant people all around him. Hagrid brought out his monster sized binoculars and could easily see the tiny figure of Harry expertly flying around the pitch.

"He's in fine form today, 'aint he?" he said proudly, to no one in particular.

Hermione gasped when Harry suddenly shot downwards and then up again with a sharp motion, seemingly for no purpose.

"What's he doing?" she asked Ron, who also seemed bewildered.

Others were now watching Harry's increasingly violent broomstick motions to the point that the Weasley twins were flying over to tell him to lay off it.

Harry himself was growing increasingly frightened over the fact that his broomstick had seemingly developed a mind of its own.

"Err, Harry? You might want to take it easy mate," George said as he flew closer to Harry, only for the Nimbus to shoot away from his approaching broom.

George had seen Harry's panicked eyes however and knew that he was in trouble. His twin was already moving off in pursuit of the fleeing broomstick and its rider. The beady eye of Madame Hooch snapped to the three players moving off away from the centre of play and she took in the bucking broom and the serious air all three figures emanated.

She whistled to pause the game but before she could move to intercept Harry's broom he was thrown from it and left dangling from it. Cries and screams were heard around the stadium as the adults stood up to assist if they could. Harry clung on desperately whilst the twins tried to get him to safety.

* * *

Professor Snape took in what was happening and smirked in amusement. This was the best the would-be assassin could come up with? He swept towards the stairs that led to the pitch whilst casually tripping Professor Quirrell up and sending him sprawling into the people in front of him. Snape suddenly reversed his direction and sat back down in his seat, confident that Potter should be able to do the rest.

_'Good at potions and goddammit, good at Quidditch too. His father would have been insufferable,' _he thought with another flicker of a smile.

* * *

Harry was focusing now on the innate connection he had with the broom. Apart from physical manipulation such as leaning, the best Quidditch players communicated their thoughts to the broom as to where to go. Harry focused on that connection now and took note on the curious second presence influencing his broom. It was much stronger than his own and he endeavoured to concentrate on the whirling stick of death he was currently clinging onto, trying to will it to remain steady so he could get back on it.

Suddenly, the presence disappeared and Harry was in control once more. He swung his leg back over the broom and steadied himself just as the rest of the team and the ref caught up to him. Madame Hooch demanded an explanation before checking both himself and the broom. He assured her that he was not in control of the broom during the last few minutes and described what he had found when trying to control the broom himself. The woman looked at him with concern for a moment before signalled for everyone to get back into position.

"Harry, not that I'm not displeased that you aren't splattered along the ground or anything, but now would be an _excellent_ time to catch the Snitch," Oliver Wood said as he flew back to the goal posts.

The twins each gave him a reassuring pat on the back and the Chasers all gave him a smile before shooting off to get back to the Quaffle.

The match began again in earnest with Harry even more focused on finding the Snitch. The crowd roared many times over the next half hour as many goals were scored by both sides, making the score 180-120 to Gryffindor. Either side could win if they caught the Snitch at this point and it showed in the tremendous amount of pressure apparent on the Slytherin Seeker's face.

Harry was keeping calm in accordance with his training, though his thighs were burning with exertion and the rest of his body was also exhausted. He had never flown for this long or this hard before and now understood the importance of his physical training. As he flew long loops of the pitch thinking about this thing and that, a glimmer or gold appeared just above Oliver's third goalpost.

Harry surged forward, shooting past his captain mere inches away as he flew after the dodging ball. Suddenly the other Seeker was there next to him trying to ram him off course, which worked against both as the Snitch unexpectedly changed direction and flew straight downwards towards the ground. Both boys flew straight after it into a spine tingling dive of at least 200ft before the Slytherin player chickened out about five feet from the ground and pulled up.

Harry shot down past him, pulling up only when he was mere inches from the turf, which seemed a blur of green to him at his speed.

The Snitch beckoned in front of him and he reached out his hand to snatch the tiny ball from the air, eliciting a mighty cheer from the stands as the supporters understood what had happened. His team collided with him in a hug that brought them all crashing down to earth, whilst Madam Hooch, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape hurried over to check Harry's broom.

McGonagall was beside herself, her team had won but the broom she had given to the first year had nearly thrown him off in his first outing. Harry seemed in a daze as he spotted the faces of people he knew cheering and he smiled and waved at them. Today was a good day, all things considered.

* * *

Afterwards, in an interview with the teachers in the Hospital Wing whilst being checked up on by Madame Pomfrey, it turned out that his broom had been jinxed by a person in the crowds whom Snape and Quirrell were searching for now. He was assured it would not happen again and was relieved when his friends burst in to yell their congratulations as well as their worries.

Hermione had him in a hug that many would consider a head lock (the curse of being short for his age) and Ron was sat at the end of his bed repeatedly shaking his head and saying "Blimey," over and over again.

When he told them about the jinx, Hermione interjected to say that the person must have had eye contact or must have cursed the broom beforehand. Since it was improbable that someone had made it into the secure Gryffindor tower rooms and into his trunk whilst unnoticed by all, they agreed with the teachers in that the person must have been in the crowd.

"Who could it have been though?" Ron asked curiously.

"Well, it could have been any number of people to be honest; the games are watched by parents, Hogsmeade villagers and by fans of the sport. Could have come from Europe or Asia for the match," Harry mused.

"I hope Dumbledore will improve security next time. He might even come himself to make sure it doesn't happen again," Hermione said, thoughtfully staring out of the window at the already darkening sky.

"Still, great playing there Harry," Ron said enthusiastically, grinning with the thought of them moving up to second place in the Cup already.

Harry sat back and wondered who the mysterious force was that tried to kill him. He knew it was irrational. He knew it would be unbelievable if it were true but recent events made him feel more and more like it was time to stop putting this off.

"Hermione, when we get out of here I'm going to need your help in the library," he said.

She tilted her head curiously before freezing in place when he said, "I need to find out everything the wizarding world knows about Lord Voldemort."

* * *

_Cliff notes for Hogwarts: A History_

_1\. See the 'James Curse' notes or A History of Magic for details. Suffice to say, Scotland was in poor shape politically and economically at the time._

_2\. This was before the settlement of Hogsmeade, which was in part, an accidental occurrence. According to oral folklore, it did in fact have something to do with a runaway pig and a stolen barrel of cider._

_3\. A common and long held criticism of the founders four was that they never added any enchantments to the glass that made up the windows or greenhouses. This has led to generations of hot tempers shattering said glass repeatedly, much to the amusement of other students (and the consternation of Herbology professors)._

_4\. Both are respectively the strongest government building in the world and the strongest prison in terms of defences. The only place in this writer's knowledge that has wards greater than Hogwarts is Nuremgard, the infamous citadel that contains Gellert Grindelwald._


	14. Chapter 14: Circles within circles

**AEU Chapter 14**

Harry sat back from his collected stack of books, deep in thought about what he had read.

His mind couldn't really grasp the amount of fear, destruction and death Voldemort brought to the world for so many years. People died by the dozens in every day of the war, with the Ministry of Magic barely managing to keep the wizarding world a secret whilst also trying to save as many people as possible. There were perhaps two hundred Death Eaters, and hundreds and thousands of other wizards making up the dark side's army. Led by Voldemort, his inner circle and with some nasty creatures on his leash, they were quite literally taking over the country.

As he continued reading about the murders, the armies of corpses ravaging the populace, the Dark Mark cast over so many settlements signifying their end and the whispers of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, Harry felt the first prickles of fear when he thought about Lord Voldemort.

Before he had been an abstract idea, someone who had killed his parents but was gone now. After all this research though, it did not seem possible that he, Harry, had destroyed Voldemort that night. Hagrid's words about Voldemort being broken but not dead came back to him now. If the man was out there somewhere, he could be the one behind all of these incidents but then…

Harry tried to think rationally, Voldemort couldn't be behind _everything_, could he?

Perhaps it was a new threat who wanted whatever was hidden within Hogwarts, who just wanted to distract everyone from defending that task by killing the least experienced member of a Quidditch team, therefore singling Harry out as an obvious target.

Unable to shake the unsettling feeling in his stomach, he looked over at Hermione, whose face was white with reading about the deaths of so many. Records of the Daily Prophet were hardly as reliable evidence as Harry's source books, but even they painted a picture of blood and thunder across magical Britain and sometimes even beyond, reports going as far away as Albania, speaking of the Death Eaters' ferocity.

"I just can't believe it all Harry," she said in a low voice.

"I don't know what happened to him after that night after he killed my…my parents, but I don't think he died," Harry said slowly, scared to think of the alternatives.

"From everything I've read, he was _terrified_ of Dumbledore for some reason. He never came close to Hogwarts or took the Ministry by force because of the headmaster," Hermione said with some fake confidence with an undercurrent of panic.

Harry stood up and stretch before patting her shoulder reassuringly.

"We'll figure this all out Hermione. We need to get going," he said before filing his books away using the levitation spell he knew along with the libraries own return system.

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes, "You know we need to go to someone about all of this. Even if Voldemort turns out to be smoke and mirrors, _someone _is trying to get into Hogwarts to steal this object, whatever it is," she said whilst clearing away her own books.

"We can speak to McGonagall after dinner, she's our head of house anyway, she _should _listen to us," Harry decided, before the pair strolled down to the Great Hall at a leisurely pace.

* * *

Ron was already there, attacking a large pie of some sort. He gave a nod of acknowledgement to Harry and then looked carefully at Hermione. She rolled her eyes; the day before she and Ron had argued about his habit about talking with his mouth full. They still were not friends as much as Harry tried to make them gel together. Whilst they were coming around to the idea, they seemed to enjoy bickering too much to develop any further attachment yet.

"Okay, what did you get?" Ron said eventually, before turning a little green from the various details Harry and Hermione relayed to him.

"Bloody hell, my parents told me a few things about the war and all but I never knew about all this…So do y'think You-Know-Who is behind all these attacks and stuff?" he said at first in anger then with a quieter panic in his voice.

"We aren't sure, that's the problem. We don't know enough about the world we are in to know if there are any other forces out there that could take Hogwarts or break into Gringotts," Harry said in frustration.

"Well, the only other person I can think of is Grindelwald, that bloke who-"

"Dumbledore defeated in 1945?" Hermione interrupted with curiosity.

"Is he _still alive_?" Harry asked in bewilderment.

"Yeah, Dumbledore didn't kill him; he just put him in his own prison," Ron answered, "But I don't think it's him to be honest. The place is nearly as impregnable as Azkaban-"

"-More so from what I've read-"

"And Gringotts and Hogwarts?" Harry interrupted this time, stopping Hermione dead and leaving Ron even more scared.

"Let's tell the professor first before we do any more thinking on this. We need to know of the staff are aware of this thief," Hermione said, sweeping off to the staff table to get an appointment with McGonagall.

"Harry, do you really think _You-Know-Who_ is here?" Ron asked him disbelievingly.

"I don't know mate. It's not like it's not possible. I wouldn't put anything past him from everything I've read. But…I don't know. I hope not," Harry said.

The walls of the Hall did not seem so safe anymore. The people around him ate and chatted on unawares of the danger that was circling around him. Harry shivered from the thoughts that entered his head, the feeling that he was being watched by unseen forces, desperate to kill him and everyone else in the room.

* * *

If McGonagall was confused by the trio's sudden request for a meeting it did not show in her face when they came into her office.

"Well? Miss Granger told me that you needed to speak with me on a matter of urgency," she said briskly.

"Professor, we think that the person that attacked Harry could be linked to the break in at Gringotts earlier this year," Hermione said.

McGonagall's face tightened noticeably as Harry continued, "We figured that the object within that vault was moved here, seen as Hogwarts is more remote than Gringotts, just as secure from thieves and also an easy place to trap someone should they appear."

The transfiguration teacher sat silently watching them, so Harry carried on through his feelings about the attack on him, the troll being let in on Halloween night and the sealing off of the third floor corridor flag-posted to them that someone had been attempting to both steal the item and kill Harry.

"Because it takes great magic to break into Gringotts and Hogwarts, both without being caught AND the person tried to kill me directly plus sent in a troll to try and distract everyone without thought for loss of life that could result from that action, we assume the person is working for Voldemort or is perhaps...Voldemort himself," Harry concluded, watching carefully the reactions that had happened on the woman's face.

She had gone through shock, interest, respect and resignation within a few seconds.

"Mr Potter, I must first instruct you that nothing that I am about to tell you must go beyond this room," McGonagall began, her office door shutting briskly with an unspoken command, "First of all, we know that someone is trying to steal the item hidden within the third floor. We made the announcement of the dangers of going there public to ensure the thief knows where the object they seek is. We also know that the man is already inside the school and is waiting for his chance to steal the item."

"I assume it's a trap?" Hermione asked, concentrating on the new information.

"Yes Miss Granger, the headmaster knew the thief would find where the object was sooner or later, so we decided to ensnare the man in a tempting trap. We fully expect him to make his move by Christmas when many of the students will return home," McGonagall shifted in her seat, "We do suspect that this man is working with You-Know-Who in some capacity. For this reason, I must ask you all to abstain from your investigation and exercise extreme caution for the rest of the term, particularly you Mr Potter."

The group sat in collective silence for a while, each within their own thoughts.

Finally, Harry sighed and stood up, "Thank you for your time Professor. We won't look anymore into this," and he motioned for the other two to follow him out.

* * *

"So what do we do Harry?" Ron asked later in the Common Room.

"I think its best that we stay out of all of this. We don't know _too_ much magic after all," Harry said, laying out a reasonable plan that the other two swiftly agreed too.

"Hagrid must know something about all of this, I wouldn't have thought the teachers would have missed out on the opportunity to get some monster to guard the object," Hermione said logically after a period of reflection, causing Harry and Ron to wince in horror at exactly what Hagrid had suggested to put only a few hundred meters away from where they sleep.

"Erm...on second thought, let's check with Hagrid to make sure that whatever he put in the place is...um, _safely contained_," Harry said, eliciting nods from the two others.

"So otherwise, it's business as usual then?" Ron asked in relief about not interfering directly with Lord Voldemort.

"Yeah, we really shouldn't be screwing around with this sort of stuff. I mean, they set up these traps to ensnare _Voldemort_. We will almost certainly die if we attempt to set foot in that corridor, although we should definitely check to see what sort of horror Hagrid put in there," Harry said cautiously.

The group smiled, relieved that their part in this had come to an end before Ron groaned at the large pile of homework he had allowed to build up.

Hermione looked at Ron slumped at a desk before rolling her eyes and turning to Harry, "I don't think he's going to be moving for the next few hours. Do you want to grill Hagrid now?"

"We probably should, before he gets agitated by Christmas and whatnot. I'll be down in a minute," Harry said, running up to his dorm room to grab his winter cloak.

The pair set off towards Hagrid's hut not knowing exactly what they were getting themselves into.

* * *

"So that's the situation in a nutshell Albus," McGonagall finished, sighing in her seat.

The headmaster was drumming his fingers together in thought and the other house leaders were taking in what the trio had uncovered in their own ways.

"At the very least, all this means that the Dark Lord has taken the bait and is moving within Hogwarts using Quirrell," Professor Snape said calmly.

"That's all well and good but the plan was that he would be going straight for the stone, not after our students!" Professor Sprout said irritably at the potions master.

"Harry Potter is protected in more ways than one. We shall all keep a closer eye on him from now on, but to be fair, we should have been doing that anyway," Dumbledore said, turning towards one of the silver spindly instruments, one of the few that he himself had made, and noted the magical essence it was detecting was the right level.

"I fully expect Lord Voldemort to make his move in the Christmas break. He would be a fool to wait any longer, especially as the school shall be emptied by all but a few for two weeks. That opportunity will not come up again until the end of the school year," he explained to the staff assembled, "Whilst Mr Potter will almost certainly stay over for this time, Voldemort should be focused enough on final planning and actually doing the deed that everyone should be reasonably safe in the castle."

"Has Fudge been told about any of this?" McGonagall said with a hint of consternation, the Minister was not the strongest of souls at the best of times and every year seemed to slip further up his own office.

She was not expecting Dumbledore to smile and say, "Oh yes, the Minister knows something is up, along with Madam Bones and a few select aurors. Hopefully they will be all here to see Voldemort's attempt. That will go a long way in making Fudge take magical law enforcement seriously again, and it may even shake his trust in Lucius Malfoy…though I don't hold out hope there."

Taking in the disbelief from his staff, he chuckled a little and said, "Ah. You expected me to lure Voldemort back into this country, thus irreparably proving that he is alive and dangerous, without showing the authorities? Why on earth would I do such a thing?"

Snape eyed the headmaster curiously, "And Potter? Do you expect him to sit this one out?"

"Do you expect him to intervene, Severus?" Flitwick said in surprise.

"But of course. How could he not? A chance to see his parents' executioner trapped so close to him...why would he not want to 'wander'?"

The room erupted at the sound of the last word. Dumbledore silenced them all by saying, "If…if Harry wishes to journey with us, I cannot deny him. If my suspicions are correct, I may need him to go down there at some point anyway. And…well, I want him to see the mirror, if only once. I think it would do him good to see what lies within his heart."

The meeting was quiet for a time before the various members excused themselves. McGonagall remained however.

"You realise that Mr Potter and his friends might not wait for us Albus? Hagrid has always been the weak man in this chain of ours and his friends might easily take what they need to know from him."

Dumbledore turned sternly round to look her in the eye, "Minerva, you and I both know that whilst he may seem to be a child, already the pain he has dealt with in his life has forced him to be wise beyond his years. He knows our plan and he also understands what is at stake. Give him some credit and even if he does become clouded with emotion, trust Miss Granger to turn him right. They might be children, but children surprise even myself with their sensibilities sometimes, as well as their foolishness."

The woman could find to argument against what he said and so nodded and briskly walked out of the room.

Dumbledore hummed quietly as he sat back down in his chair. "Christmas is coming…the goose is getting fat…"


	15. Chapter 15: The first Christmas

**AEU Chapter 15**

The night before Christmas found the school of Hogwarts quiet and peaceful in its slumber. Snow gently fell through the trees and the night air was disturbed only by the soft whistle of the wind slowly churning through the forest. There was a faint mist rising over the frosted lake and the various creatures, the inhabitants of the forest themselves, were huddled in their far warmer homes, nests and burrows than the two figures sat on the hill overlooking the lake.

Hedwig was silent, valuing the peaceful nature of the world for once and her familiar, her child, was deep in thought. Harry had only ever seen glimpses of the festival of Christmas before, either by peeking through his window to see the street outside, desperate to find the twinkling lights or by spying the occasional scene through Dudley's never ending TV marathon through the holiday season.

The actual start of it all, Christmas day, only held significance to Harry as the start of the twelve days of Dudley boasting before everything he received was broken, traded in or forgotten, doomed to shelf life in Harry's room.

Like the lake below him though, Harry had partially frozen his heart to the fact that the ones who loved him were dead and buried at this time of the year and he had yet to be given the opportunity to mourn them properly or even see their graves.

* * *

Hedwig shifted slightly in her perch, the snow was not yet chilling her winter plumage but for her human, he was clearly suffering the effects of the cold by now. She hooted softly once and nipped him gently, trying to be there for a boy who had lived…only to be abandoned.

Harry looked up from his thoughts and smiled at his owl, his face coming out of the frown that was now hurting his facial muscles. He looked across the scene he was in. This was nice, far removed from the bleak, harsh beauty Scotland normally boasted. Whilst the cold was biting at his face and hands, the sheen from the snow, the glitter from the moon and the stars above and the…

_'Wait, what is that?'_

Harry moved from his sitting positions onto his knees, staring keenly into the midnight blue air. There it was again! An unmistakable spark of light.

The boy struggled to find words to describe the occasional lights that were now increasing in frequency. He looked around, wondering if someone else was there with him. The lights were not just coming in that direction, they appeared briefly seemingly anywhere in the sky around him.

_'A...a ribbon of light? A streak, a stream, a silky ribbon made of changing light…blast, how can I describe this? What on Earth could this be?'_

Hedwig was reacting to the lights too, but with less alarm than Harry. She gave him a reassuring look before coming down from her perch to cuddle into him. Harry held her close as the mysterious lights continued to occasionally flicker. He was now focused on them, his senses primed for any new clues. They found one soon enough, for Harry could now make out a low sound coming from the lights as they appeared and disappeared.

It was a hum…but not, more rhythmical and beautiful, like a choir or an orchestra, perfectly in time and in tune.

Suddenly, it clicked in Harry's mind what all this was and he gasped in awe before his voice was silenced by the wondrous sight.

What he was seeing, and it only seemed possible to see now on such a silent, dark night, were the magnificent and powerful wards of Hogwarts shifting around him.

He gripped Hedwig to him again and went back to his seat and delighted in the changing patterns and shapes the ancient shields made. It was clear the castle had not just wards in a dome around its perimeter, but also on the building itself, as well as those that went vertically upwards, defending the entire night sky from evil.

It was as close as Harry had ever gotten to a religious experience, and as the 24th became 25th, Harry Potter found tears dropping down he face, for once not through sadness or through pain, but for the sheer beauty of the world he lived in.

Unknown to either boy or owl, they had been under quiet observation by keener eyes than they, and a look of profound curiosity seemed to pass over the man in the grey suit as he softly disappeared into the mist, leaving the silhouetted pair in peace. No one disturbed the two quiet figures on the hill with mist rapped around the trough. They spent their little piece of eternity marvelling at the magic that had been performed so long ago that still meant so much now.

* * *

"Harry? HARRY! Merry Christmas!" Ron bellowed at Harry the next morning.

He rubbed his eyes at smiled at the memory of the night before, unsure of how much was a dream or not.

Generally, Ronald Weasley was developing into a patient sort of chap, but t'was not so today.

"Come on Harry, everyone's waiting for you. We got presents!"

"I have presents?" Harry asked sleepily.

"Well what did you expect us to give you, money?" Ron snorted before running down the flight of stairs that led to the common room.

Harry shook himself as he got up and reached for his dressing gown.

Most people had left for the holidays to spend at home, but Ron's parents were away in Romania 'looking at dragons' for some reason, whilst Hermione had, unbeknownst to both the boys, begged her parents to stay with her new friends for Christmas.

Both Ron and Hermione were now kneeling by the tree where the presents had been delivered, along with the rest of the Wesley's staying at Hogwarts. Percy had been shoved unceremoniously into a chaotic collection of wool that Harry learnt was a 'Weasley Jumper'. The unknown Mrs Weasley, for all her apparent prowess in the kitchen and in shouting matches, couldn't knit to save her life.

Harry didn't mind though, he thought his green coloured knitwear was pretty good, although at this point the happiness he felt at getting presents might have been affecting his head. Ron groaned at his maroon jumper but quickly pulled it over his head to wear; Harry could tell that he missed his large family immensely even if half of them were here with him.

Fred and George laughed aloud at Ron being eager to open a book for the first time; Harry had gotten him the collected works of several chess grandmasters plus a history of great military battles in Europe.

Hermione actually bit back poorly disguised sob when Harry gave her a photograph frame with all three of them celebrating after a successful Quidditch match, surrounded by their other friends and classmates. Her present to him got smiles from everyone, a signed copy of **Hogwarts: A History** with all three authors' signatures within it and a personal encouragement from Bathilda Bagshot, who not only lauded his excellent studies so far but knew his mother and father well.

'_That is something I might want to follow up on one of these days,' _Harry thought to himself as he squeezed Hermione's hand before thanking Ron for the enormous supply of Chocolate frogs he had been given.

The twin brothers had presented all three with a bottle of "_Butterbeer: finest draught of warming cheer_" or so claimed the bottle, in a hearty sounding voice. Having tasted it, after Hermione had been assured it was non-alcoholic in nature; all three agreed it was a fine drink.

Percy had gifted Harry and Hermione a wizard's chess board, having seen both to be quite taken to the sport after Ron had introduced them to it. The prefect had become less pompous as the year wore on; either his duties had worn him down or his other brothers had finally managed to rub off on him.

* * *

All of them went down to breakfast that day, very much full of Christmas cheer. Hagrid met them just within the entrance hall and gave Harry something that, more than anything else, had him near to tears.

"I knew you had no pictures of your mum and dad so…I er, asked around all of their mates to see what they had to give to you," the giant said before accepting a huge grin and a hesitant hug from Harry as everyone else beamed at both of them. "It wasn't no trouble Harry, though you might want to go an' thank the professors for a fair few of these, an' for the book itself," Hagrid said as they walked into the great hall to see it literally decked with holly, magical snow and a magnificent breakfast spread that included hot chocolate and marshmallows.

Ron and the other Weasleys were confused by these fluffy little objects but all found them to be enjoyable when tasted. Professor Dumbledore was chuckling merrily throughout the whole meal, though he gave Harry a wink when they both happened to be looking that way.

Percy went red as the other prefects that remained came to sit with their group. Neither of the twins missed the looks both he and a certain Ravenclaw prefect were giving each other. Perhaps this was the reason why he had deflated over the last months? The oblivious younger children ignored their repeated mocking calls and tucked in. After a bit of (heavy) teasing, the pair kissed until they were both bright red under a passing bunch of mistletoe that was lazily wafting through the air towards the empty Slytherin table. Penelope Clearwater turned out to be a right and proper genius, as befitted the guardian of Ravenclaw. She had immediately 'hit it off' with Harry and Hermione, who quizzed her mercilessly on what was coming up through the years.

Harry had learnt that many wizarding family's that were old (not necessarily _Pure-blooded_) tended to be wealthy, for their families and wizards in general had been blessed with a pretty much continuous economy seemingly since the time of the Pharaohs. Magic also provided any kind of house or dwelling the owner was capable of crafting, so long as it remained invisible to the general populace. Not that everyone lived in mansions, in many places wizards lived literally underground and had enchanted gardens elsewhere. As quite a few of their fellow students were from such homes (such as Neville Longbottom), they had left to enjoy the creature comforts of home. However, many other less fortunate children had also retreated from Hogwarts to be with their families at Christmas. This in particular hit Harry with a pang of longing, even before watched Hermione send her letter wishing her parents a Merry Christmas.

One day, he thought, perhaps he could have something like the others had. A family that could spend the season together and _enjoy it_ with each other. For now though, he was happy to be with his friends on Christmas day.

Fred and George were the masters of creating chaos and over the next few hours, most of what remained of the Hogwarts population was in a massive snowball fight in the grounds. It only got really nuts when Flitwick appeared, casting charmed snowballs at the fleeing pair of red heads. Professor McGonagall, her face flushed red from the cold and from the rather excellent case of wine Dumbledore had given her, transfigured several snowmen into far more impressive things, such as owls, cats and, for some reason, a stag that gracefully bounded around the grounds for many hours before the bell sounded for Christmas Dinner.

* * *

The hall exploded into a cacophony of noise as crackers were pulled, exploding outwards to reveal their contents, along with generous amounts of magical blue smoke.

Dumbledore was, for reasons unknown to all but him, wearing a bonnet instead of his usual hat and even Snape was smirking in his own way, once even laughing as the Weasley twins managed to plant a joke cracker on Percy, covering him in gunge. Harry himself was delighted at the feast before him. The turkeys were not dry or full of fat, but excellent in their flavour.

Not forgetting what Hagrid said, he walked over halfway through the meal to thank the teachers for adding to his photo album. He knew the transfiguration professor would have had some dealings with his parents but Snape (after watching and deliberating for a time) shook his hand as well, telling him that whilst he was not always on good terms with his parents, they were extremely impactful on his life. Once more, Harry had to rethink the image he had of both his family and his potions teacher, whose black eyes now seemed very much older than Harry had previously thought.

Dumbledore however, saved him from any embarrassment by calling Harry over. He shook his hand first, Harry noting the warm but firm grip the old man had, before apologising for not having many dealing with him or many other first years, as this had been, in his own words, 'a fairly problematic year for us all'. Generally the headmaster attempted at least three personal meetings with each student per year and more so with the older years. He did however; congratulate Harry for his excellent mock scores on his tests, showing a particular fondness for Transfiguration.

"I was once the teacher for that subject, did you know that? Yes, it was a very long time ago now but I am always glad to see young people taking to it," the headmaster said with his eyes twinkling. "Ah...and one thing more Mr Potter," Dumbledore said before leaning in a little closer.

"Whilst this is honestly not _strictly_ a present, for it has always belonged to you, you may have it with my compliments of the season," and with that he presented Harry with a package and an instruction to inspect the contents later.

The old teacher's eyes sparkled like mad as Harry thanked him and returned to his own table. He saw McGonagall watching the proceedings, and leaned over to her slightly.

"You know Minerva, I do believe that he is the best of both of his parents, with little of James' arrogance but all of his power, and with Lily's patience and temperament, but fortunately with a diminished temper. I wonder what he shall do with his time here?" the man wondered aloud to his deputy.

She blinked at the retreating figure and said, "I'm just imagining what it would have been like to have a young James Potter **AND** the Weasley twins here at the same time. It would have meant the end of Hogwarts!"

Albus Dumbledore's chuckle sounded throughout the hall once again.

* * *

"So what is it then, Hermione?" Ron asked the witch as she turned over a corner of Harry's present again and again.

"Hmm…put it on Harry. I can see it's meant to do something but I'm unsure what exactly," she said, tentatively excited.

"Okay, but if this teleports me to Mars I'm going to be very cross with you," Harry mumbled as he swirled the cloak around him. His body immediately vanished from view.

"WOAH!" both boy's shouted has Hermione gasped.

"A cloak of invisibility Hermione, how cool is that?" Harry said as he pulled it over his head and vanished from the room.

"Very cool and really rare mate," Ron said reverently with a tinge of jealousy as he ran his hands down the silky texture of the robe.

Hermione was reading the note that came with it, before reading aloud:

_'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A very Merry Christmas to you.'_

"He's not half bad is he, Dumbledore?" Ron said wonderingly.

Harry nodded along. Did this cloak really belong to his father? Why, if it was, would he loan such a thing away?

"What can we use this thing for then?" Harry asked the other two.

Ron shrugged his shoulders at that, whilst Hermione became lost in thought over the possibility. Harry grinned at that, his two friends were so different and yet got along with everyone so well. Now if they could just get along with each other...

"Use it well," he murmured quietly to himself.

That seemed to be an invitation, wasn't it? He would think upon this later.

That night, Harry dreamed not of Voldemort or of horrors best left to nightmares, but of his friends and his family, together in the flesh, living peacefully in a snowy wilderness.

* * *

Quirrell moaned as his master further implanted and inserted himself into the mind of the teacher.

Voldemort was now in control of all motion in the body.

It would wear out his servant far faster; perhaps he only had a week of life left in him, but Voldemort knew it would be time well spent. For the first moment in far too many years, Lord Voldemort looked up at the spires of his first and only home, and _laughed_ aloud.

Soon...the stone, his body and eternal life would be his for the taking. Only the meddling old fool and his band of fumbling, bumbling professors stood in his way now. The Dark Lord went over his plans again, preparing for his return to power.

Soon...


	16. Chapter 16: The trapdoor shuts

**AEU Chapter 16**

Lord Voldemort dealt with the infernal hound within seconds, blasting it against the back wall of the room it had been guarding since the beginning of last year.

He felt the soothing feeling of killing satisfying the itch he had carried for ten long years. The curse, the beautiful curse that had been his spell of choice for so many killings had only failed him once, and he was pleased he could use it again with impunity. The trapdoor had an interesting selection of locking charms and enchantments on it, as the door had before it, but the Dark Lord could not be denied and soon he was inside and flying down the pit.

_'Devil's Snare? What was that old fool thinking?'_

The plants were easily destroyed, fire charring the dark green vines but produced no smoke due to the spell involved. Voldemort surveyed the room for a moment, looking for additional traps before moving cautiously before the door.

If he knew Dumbledore, and he was sure that he did, the first few traps would be there to draw in would-be thieves before the hammer fell.

When he blew the door off its hinges, he was surprised to see an empty room.

This didn't help his sense of paranoia and when he detected rustling above him he whirled Quirrell's wand upwards very quickly before stopping himself blowing up the ceiling. Voldemort forced himself to be calm; being inside the weak fool's mind whilst also being a mere fragment of his former self meant that his vast intellect was not what it should be and nor were his instincts and power levels.

Still…

The man observed the various keys above him with disdain; surely this was not all the professors of this former great school could come up with? He summoned the correct key.

Then he frowned as that did nothing and the keys continued to flutter high above him.

The wizard then sent out a groping arm of magic out at the key, which it nimbly dodged.

Voldemort sighed through Quirrell's mouth.

This body did not have the magical power left to sustain flight for very long, nor did it have excellent reflexes. He shot out towards the key, hoping that it was not so quick that he could not grab it. After half a minute, he had trapped the metal object beneath the clammy hands of the possessed. He could already feel the body starting to die slowly. He did not care so much, the elixir could be brewed within days of getting the stone and Voldemort would soon have that.

He laughed out loud when he saw the chessboard in front of him.

He was taught Transfiguration by Albus Dumbledore himself; there was _nothing_ McGonagall could do to keep him from undoing her spells around the pieces before convincing the door that he had won, since there were no hostile pieces left. Still, he mused, he had wanted to play the game. He had not played a good one since his Hogwarts years-the Death Eaters were far too afraid to play him at anything.

The troll didn't even make him blink; a killing curse quickly silenced the disgusting creature before he disintegrated the corpse to stop the stench spreading.

Ah, now here was a challenge worthy of him. A riddle from Severus, the name was followed with a mental spit on it. The man would pay for turning to Dumbledore, he and all the other followers would be punished or killed for betraying him. Scanning the fire with the inferior wand, the Dark Lord frowned, noting that Dumbledore himself had erected this barrier.

_'Why had he not done all of the traps?'_

Voldemort was questioning this farther before his subconscious mind came across the answer to the riddle. The smallest bottle, black as his own soul, would see him through. The last trap was surely Dumbledore's own design and Voldemort, for once, paused before opening the door.

What had the old codger done this time?

* * *

A pine fresh smell suddenly coming into the Headmaster's nostrils alerted him to the activation of the intruder rune. He immediately sent a patronus out to both the Ministry and to the staff room for them to assemble. It was time to apprehend their thief. Dumbledore smiled grimly to himself before motioning to Fawkes to alight on his shoulder. Now to see whether this whole affair had been worthwhile…

* * *

Minister Fudge was in the middle of writing an incredibly long and dreary report on Goblin trading to the head of Goblin Economics (of the Goblin Union) before the silver sight of a patronus burst forth into his room.

"Gather at Hogwarts, the enemy has come to us," the unmistakable of the Headmaster said.

Knowing some of Dumbledore's plan, the Minister stood and sent out a message to Madame Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour and the twenty aurors he had on alert since the start of the holidays. As he rushed from his office, he only wondered exactly who this thief was that had the headmaster so worried.

* * *

Quirrell's wand was out and glowing, pulsating every few seconds as the dark wizard methodically swept the room, looking for the powerful magical artefact that he had detected far away from this place but now had to pinpoint.

Voldemort frowned. The scans were coming up nought for all but the mirror, and yet it itself was unremarkable. A golden frame on a golden stand. Very much a normal, if large mirror. He prowled around it, looking for any clues, any sort of indication of what to do next.

Stopping in front of it, he caught sight of the hideous exterior that contained his glorious portion of soul. It sickened him how low he had been brought by an infernal child and a mother's touch.

Suddenly, he saw the image shift. Excitedly, he leaned forward and saw himself, restored with his enemies' dead at his feet, Nagini around his shoulders and sitting on the Headmaster's thrown whilst around him the Ministry _burned_.

But how did he get the stone to achieve all of this?

He snarled at the image that taunted him, satisfied that he was at least making leeway and with luck he would have hours to solve this puzzle.

* * *

"What's going on?" Harry murmured quietly at the other two as they observed the large crowd running towards the third floor below their staircase.

"Blimey, that's the Minister of Magic!" Ron hissed in Harry's ear.

"Ron, the third floor must have been taken. Voldemort is _here_!" Hermione whispered, shocked at the mere thought.

Suddenly, Dumbledore looked up, somehow sensing their presence. He beckoned them all down as the rest of the assembled teachers, the Minister and the fighters (Harry mentally stuttered at the word, what exactly were combat wizards called?) marched through the door that seemed to be less solid than before.

Harry went right up to the headmaster and said, "We know pretty much everything sir, about Voldemort, the Philosopher's stone and what his plan is."

Dumbledore nodded almost before Harry had begun speaking, "You are all quite correct to be concerned about this but we have the situation in hand. Please remain calm; he is no threat to you whilst we are here."

"If that's so, then I need to go with you to confront him," Harry said boldly, not quite sure what it was that made him say that or what made it so important to him.

Hermione gasped at his abruptness and Ron looked at once eager for an adventure but also terrified of walking up to Voldemort when he was cornered.

Dumbledore peered through his half-moon spectacles at the three students, so clever in each their own way. Were they ready to see this sort of evil?

Perhaps not, but Dumbledore had promised himself he would not lie or try to shelter Harry from what his future held. His suspicions were not yet confirmed and he prayed to every deity he could think of that he was mistaken, yet Harry would be in the firing line by necessity if he was correct.

Harry was staring into the icy bright blue eyes that were seemingly X-raying him right now. He was determined but he was not so foolish to think that it wasn't dangerous for him to go down there or that he was being incredibly demanding and presumptuous for asking the headmaster for this.

The old man's eyes dimmed and he straightened up.

"Very well, please stay behind everyone and you may come along. If anyone tells you to run, you will do so. If we fight, you will hide or run. Please try not to get in the way of the aurors," he said softly, but with the edge of an order.

All three quickly nodded before following behind the old wizard. They were shocked to see the broken corpse of a giant three headed dog thrown against the first room's back wall. Dumbledore sighed before speaking a quiet little something to an inconsolable Hagrid. The giant remained sobbing over the creature, his great head bowed and his shoulders heaving, whilst the attack force began to descend down a trapdoor.

An imposing man in purple robes held up his palm to halt the Headmaster and his students.

"What are they doing here, Albus? We don't know what's down there!" he said in a deep voice that boomed around the room.

"Kingsley, I know who is down there, and Mr Potter in particular has something he needs to see. Three students at the back will not impede your investigation, and I will personally defend them," Dumbledore said.

The auror, Harry supposed, backed down slightly before shaking his hand.

"Good to meet you Harry Potter," he said with a grin, showing very white teeth before he dove head first down the pit.

A surprised Harry looked up at Dumbledore questioningly.

He chuckled briefly and explained, "Kingsley Shacklebolt is one of the finest aurors in the force and a personal friend of both myself and your parents. I feel you will learn to trust him. Now, please follow me."

The professor stepped into thin air and slowly sank below the floor. Harry and the others followed on with curiosity. The sensation was altogether tickly and they seemed to have picked up a small amount of static when they hit firm ground again.

"Now then children," Dumbledore said sombrely, "please exercise caution. Whilst Lord Voldemort may be contained by these walls, remember that he will fight to try and pass us. We must not allow that to happen."

The procession continued on into the darkening passage.

* * *

The Dark Lord himself was now closely examining the mirror. Something was niggling him about it and he had found what that thing was. The source of the power he was detecting, the power emanating from the stone, was contained _inside of the mirror._

It was typical of Dumbledore's brand of insanity. Breaking the mirror would gain him nothing. It was more likely that the stone was vanished and the mirror would summon it or something like that. All of his examinations and his powers had revealed only a tiny glimpse of an impression of a few shards of wood, sealed within the mirror.

_'What could it all mean?'_

Suddenly, he whirled around. His proximity alarm had gone off; he had set the rune just outside of the chess room so they were not far away. Voldemort considered, Dumbledore might be his equal, but even in this body, few others could take him.

Even the full staff of Hogwarts probably could not defeat him without sustaining heavy casualties, something they probably did not want to take.

In his shattered mental state, the slightly delusional Lord Voldemort awaited the challenge of a duel after so long spent absent from others in a forest. He paced impatiently, preparing for the moment when he would kill again.


	17. Chapter 17: Old ghosts

**AEU Chapter 17**

The Minister for Magic was not one to miss any opportunity fate brought his way.

Cornelius Fudge had entered politics in the aftermath of the defeat of You-Know-Who to challenge several injustices he had grown up seeing all around him whilst also trying to build himself a legacy. Thus far, he had been crushingly unsuccessful on all accounts, with the Pure-blood led Wizengamot blocking many of the reformist backed legislation and Lucius Malfoy attempting to both bribe him and his personal office.

Sometimes, Fudge had to swallow both his honour and his integrity and let Malfoy have his way, those new wings at St. Mungo's were sorely needed after all. Dumbledore had placed his full support around him, giving him both advice and credibility, but apart from him, there were few strong allies to aid him. The Longbottoms were decimated in the last war; the Bones family were also severely reduced in size, though Madam Bones herself was a formidable woman with a strong moral compass.

That left three suspect Death Eater families, the depressingly empty two seats of Potter and Black, along with the Chief Warlock which made up the old seats of the former Wizard's Council. The rest of the seats were, in one of his only great moments in office so far, open elective offices and thus far more willing and able to solve problems, even though many clearly enjoyed residing and rewarding themselves as much as the Malfoy bloc.

Harry Potter was an opportunity to return to a more promising series of events that would lead to better lives for wizards and witches all over Britain and Ireland.

"Mr Potter? Harry?" the Minister moved towards the young boy and his three friends. "I'm Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic," he said, stretching out his hand in offering.

The boy studied him for a minute before taking his hand with his.

"Yes, I know who you are Minister," the boy said with a polite tone.

"I'm glad to finally meet you, even under these circumstances. I'm sure we should talk more later on when this situation is dealt with. And your friends?" the Minister asked, inclining his head to both onlookers who were cautiously assessing the situation.

"I'm Ron Weasley, sir," the other boy offered along with his hand.

Having rung it profusely, the girl introduced herself as Hermione Granger. Fudge made some small talk with all three as they walked along, earning some thankful looks from the aurors as they could then plan ahead with Dumbledore.

"Mr Shacklebolt, your team must ensure that no one escapes the end room. It is at the bottom of the staircase, so we will have the advantage of height," Dumbledore said to some of the aurors whilst using his own wand to monitor the single magical being prowling around in the last room.

"Dumbledore, I don't understand why you have allowed these children-"

Madam Bones started before Dumbledore cut her off, "They will be perfectly safe behind all of us. If the intruder manages to get through our entire party to them, they will be less of a target to our thief than escape and freedom. They are certainly not foolish and will not get in our way."

"On your head be it Albus," Professor McGonagall said, causing the headmaster to wince at the thought of the fury she would have if three of her own charges were to be injured by Lord Voldemort.

"And who is it we shall be apprehending, sir?" a new sprog of an auror said eagerly.

"With respect, Auror Tonks, you left Hogwarts some time ago. I stopped being 'sir' when you left here. As to the enemy within, he is the darkest threat we could possibly face," Dumbledore said gravely.

Faces paled as Bones said, "You…you don't mean…"

"Voldemort, or at least, a body possessed fully by him is down there, attempting to steal the Philosopher's Stone in order to return to destroy us all," Dumbledore answered the unsaid question.

The group became far quieter as they realised what they were all willing to do to stop that from happening.

"Are we going to die down there?" Tonks asked in all seriousness.

"Oh, I shouldn't think so. He has been alone for a very long time. His sanity must be even less than it used to be and possessing the body means that he will not be at full strength. Ah, but there is little I can say to reassure you, let us just crack on," Dumbledore said with a lightness in his voice that didn't match the steely determined look in his eyes.

* * *

Voldemort was waiting for them.

"Ah, the old man and hisss brigade of muggle loversss. Are you here to take me to prissson?" the Dark Lord hissed at the group.

Harry could hear that voice which had been at the edges of his nightmares at last. The icy tone and pure hatred carried within it shook him quite a bit. He was glad he was at the top of the stairs and out of the way for once. His scar was also tingling, with small slashes of pain being jabbed through it every so often.

They wasted no time on words but fired off their spells as one. Quirrell's face snarled in irritation, at the cheek of their defiance. He swerved out of the way of many of the spells before swiping a few out of the air with a powerful shield. His trained eyes spotted a few inexperienced eyes looking at him with something akin to fear. He ignited their robes, knowing they were not used to seeing such tactics used on them. Whilst they floundered trying to put themselves out, he turned their shoes to granite and concentrated on separating the remaining sixteen Aurors and dealing with them one by one.

This strategy _was_ working well until that infernal, un-killable Moody slashed his wand at the floor, shattering it and causing a swath of dust to block both sides view of each other. Voldemort desperately fired curses wildly into the smoke to stop the group linking up. He then swirled the mist up in front of him before solidifying it and sent it speeding into at least five figures.

Watching them go down gave him a small piece of satisfaction before he spotted Flitwick, McGonagall, Bones, Moody and Albus Dumbledore all lining up to destroy him. He knew Quirrell's body could not produce many killing curses but he fired two at the aurors moving to support the main threat. They dropped silently to the ground in death, causing the remaining players in the fight to resume attacking the Dark Lord.

The fighting was particularly fierce when Flitwick began destroying the walls and ceiling, limiting both Voldemort's room to maneuverer and also herding him into their attacks. His shields were failing whilst the attackers were pressing their advantage. Inevitably, a disarming spell shot through and he conceded that the first round had been lost.

* * *

The Minister awoke to find the room in ruins and an auror standing over him checking him over for injuries. After indicating he was fine, he rose to see a clearly possessed man with red eyes glowing with anger staring at Dumbledore.

Bones flicked her head his way and then back to Voldemort, "Two dead, Minister, along with a few injured and a new scar for Alistair's collection."

The old auror grinned savagely, holding a handkerchief to a bleeding forehead whilst pointing his wand at Voldemort. Dumbledore was cautiously beginning to erect containment charms over the prisoner before the man began laughing out loud.

"You think thessse magic tricksss will hold Lord Voldemort?" he screamed, before Dumbledore leapt backwards, his eyes fierce and alert.

"Everyone behind me, **NOW**!" he ordered, causing all presently able to dive behind him.

Voldemort continued to laugh internally though now Quirrell's own mouth was now screaming. Light burst from all over his body as Voldemort converted as much as possible into energy, a difficult and costly objective that could only ever convert a partial amount of mass into energy. A clever wizard's last resort.

Harry suddenly doubled over, his head feeling like hot knives were being thrown through it. It was all his friends could do to stop him tumbling downwards before Quirrell finally completed his final spell.

The resulting explosion obliterated what was left of the wretched Quirrell whilst nearly collapsing the rest of the enchanted room. The survivors were only saved by Dumbledore's shield, and they added their own strength to it to prevent shrapnel and further debris hitting them. Eventually, they dropped the shield and peered into the dust filled remains of the room. Apart from the mirror in the centre of the room and the small area around it, the rest of the room was filled with rubble.

Suddenly, what they had taken to be part of the dust cloud swirled and formed a face none had seen for over a decade, a face filled with rage and hatred for the people it now screamed at. It shot straight through them, streaking up the stairs, over the now groaning body of Harry and out of sight.

The onlookers stared after the spirit in shock.

"Dumbledore, what _the_ _hell_ was that thing?" McGonagall asked, out of breath from the battle.

She gave another cry when she saw Harry keeled over on the stairs, "Albus!"

The old man snapped around and hurried over with her to the boy. He seemed to be alright now, but was shaken by the effects of whatever Voldemort put him under.

_'No...no no no no...the scar is one of them...how on earth do I get it out of him?' _Dumbledore thought despairingly before remembering McGonagall's first question.

"_That_ Professor, is the amalgamation of all my fears. I must examine this area before explaining any more. Minister, Scrimgeour, Madame Bones, I will meet you all in my office in precisely fifteen minutes. Kindly leave Harry down here. I need to observe him for a few minutes more, and any way, it is time we talked," Dumbledore said sombrely to everyone standing on the stairs.

The wounded were helped or levitated out whilst the remaining fighters left to either file their reports or await further information from the wizard that was now kneeling before the ash pile of Quirrell's corpse. McGonagall paused by Harry for a moment, indecisiveness painted all over her lined face, before she whisked herself away up the stairs.

"Go on Harry, we'll wait in the Common Room," Hermione whispered, giving the now upright Harry a reassuring pat before pushing him gently towards the headmaster.

"How mental was that?" a white faced and shaking Ron said to her. She nodded, worried over Harry, and what Dumbledore would say, and want it meant now that Voldemort had escaped and what would happen to the stone and...

Ron correctly read her face well enough to see the thoughts swirling around her mind and quickly dragged her away to safety.

* * *

"Professor?" Harry called out to the old man who was currently probing the ground with magic.

"Harry...it appears my worst fears have been proven true and now I find myself needing to give you certain information. Unfortunately, some of that information is extremely dangerous and shall almost certainly lead you to view your entire life differently. And yet, it is vital you know this in due course or Voldemort will use your ignorance against you...do you see my dilemma?" the headmaster said whilst standing up to face the boy.

"I think so, sir," Harry said uncertainly.

The old man chuckled at that, before indicating towards the mirror,

"Lord Voldemort believed that once he took the stone, he would be immortal. As I'm sure you are aware, the elixir would bring him an easy way to ascertain a body of his own. Of course, the stone isn't actually here, so that was never a risk. However, you may be wondering exactly how he came to be in this position in the first place. Well, when he arrived at your home that Halloween night, your mother cast herself in front of you, forcing Voldemort to kill her before killing, or I should say, attempting to kill you."

"That act of pure love protected you...wait no, that's too simplistic. A variety of charms and potions were performed and taken before hand to build a foundation for the enchantment...but alas, the final part involved Lily's life. It is a magic so old and so little understood, yet possibly the most powerful we have yet to find. It demands desperate acts to forge great barriers. The most powerful acts of magic performed are still tied up in our emotions, as foolish or as admirable as they might be. The curse _rebounded_, destroying his mortal body whilst giving you your scar. The briefest touch of its power marked you permanently. Honestly…despite all our preparation, this was a last resort and I did not really expect you to survive it. Are you quite alright, Harry?" the old man stopped his explanation as he noticed the tears falling down Harry's cheeks.

He nodded sadly, transfiguring a plush chair for Harry to collapse on before continuing, "I knew that somehow, Voldemort had circumvented death itself. Whilst my suspicions were not proven until today when I saw him escape down that passageway, my fears were great enough that I knew he would come for you eventually. It was I that placed you with your relatives, with certain safeguards to prevent them from truly harming you. Whilst I had hoped you would not be there for long, circumstances dictated that you continued to live there."

"I do humbly and truly apologise for everything that happened to you there. I do not seek your forgiveness, but I want you to understand that I believed it necessary."

"You see, your mother's protection could continue to work if you were placed with her family, her blood, and if you called that place home. Since it was the only place you knew of, so it was. Of course, now that protection is gone-well…I say nearly gone now. You have identified Hogwarts as your home and this protection will not work anymore. I must think upon how to protect you later."

"As I was saying, for ten years I looked for explanations as to how Voldemort could have survived that night. Only one presented itself as likely: Horcruxes. That is, the act of containing a part of your soul within a separate vessel."

"Yes," he said in a raised voice as Harry looked shocked at the mere thought, "the soul is split through the act of murder, thus allowing it to be contained safely away. I tell you this to make you understand the exact threat he is. He _cannot_ die until he resumes his form, we destroy his Horcrux or Horcruxes as the case may be and then someone and anyone destroy his body for a second time."

The extent of the task made Harry sink further into his chair.

"How can _anyone_ accomplish that?" he asked.

"No _one_ can. But we possess an advantage Voldemort knows not of...we can trust and collaborate. You and I, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, are clear examples of this. We have time as of yet. Voldemort has been defeated once again, who knows when he will have another opportunity like this. Now, his Horcruxes are more of a threat than himself, as they too can possess others to do their will. If any should get into a magic user's hands…" Dumbledore tailed off.

Harry blanched at the thought of someone else coming under the effect of Voldemort's disembodied soul.

"Remember though Harry, even in your worst times, you have advantages that Voldemort, with all his power, does not. Perhaps, if you find that so hard to believe, you would look into this rather fascinating mirror."

Harry looked disbelievingly at Dumbledore for a moment, before unsteadily getting to his feet and walking towards the mirror.

There he saw to figures that he knew, he just knew, had been waiting his whole life to appear. It wasn't as if he remembered, or even recognised them. But he knew them, is family, his parents. For one brief period of time, they were together.

More figures began appearing; perhaps some had also fallen apposing Voldemort, others dying long before. Harry Potter stared at his unknown family, a beaming Dumbledore quietly took his leave whilst the Boy-Who-Lived knelt down to see the people who died.


	18. Chapter 18: Vatican Cameos

**AEU **Chapter 18****

"What _the hell_ was that, Dumbledore!" an angry Fudge shouted to the headmaster.

The old wizard sat down in his seat, patted Fawkes once whilst considering his words carefully. Today, Voldemort had been expelled from England once more but this time, the country had to be ready for his return.

"Minister, today we all saw conclusive proof that Lord Voldemort is still alive. He may be spirit, he may be in flight now but one day he shall return to wreak havoc. We must be ready for him. Now, in the last few months of the war, I received word of a prophecy that foretold the coming of someone who would defeat him," Dumbledore said whilst getting out his pensive from a cupboard.

"WHAT!" screeched Madam Bones, "Why were we not informed of this, if not during the war, then afterwards?"

Dumbledore sighed, "As to the former, you know full well by that time the Ministry was full of Death Eaters. As for after, the prophecy was so _vague_, so easily manipulative, that would be ignored by all but the most paranoid of minds. Voldemort only heard the first two lines, I believe, and that appeared enough for him. If you would," he said, indicating towards the **pensieve**.

In the pensieve, the Minister, Madam Bones and the head auror saw the rather useless prophecy and the weeks Albus spent brainstorming ideas with both the Potters and the Longbottoms, trying to both lure Voldemort into a trap and also avoid, if at all possible, death.

As time went on, the situation became more desperate, and they all rushed into a half schemed plan. There was no guarantees, in fact very little odds of success. But it was the best they could all come up with, and the Potters paid the price, but had expected this eventuality and had taken steps to protect Harry. The curse seemingly responded to the charms his mother enacted; they saw the damage through Dumbledore's own eyes at Godric's Hollow.

A second part of the plan to defend Harry was a clause in their will to the effect that if they were killed by Voldemort in similar and expected circumstances, the headmaster had the power to place Harry with the nearest blood relatives of his, to defend him the best they could.

The third part of the plan was never realised, as Sirius Black turned out to be a Death Eater and Remus Lupin was not only under scrutiny for being a werewolf but also, due to his economic condition, wasn't allowed to adopt Harry. Dumbledore spent the next week and a half battling the Ministry legally but was thrown out by the 'reformed' Death Eaters who had already gotten back into their positions of power. Nowhere within the wizarding world was safe from the clutches of them or the diehard Ministerial monsters that were Bagnold and Crouch. Eventually, Dumbledore admitted defeat and visited the Dursley household once again to say that they would have to keep Harry for at least until his eleventh birthday.

All three onlookers had moist eyes by the time they fell back into the office. They had just witnessed their society utterly failing their saviour, dooming him to be abandoned by them after saving their whole world. They were unprepared for the next bombshell.

"Now, Voldemort clearly did not die that night, as we have all witnessed downstairs. How did he accomplish this feat? There were several options I considered, the most likely, and the most fearful, was that he had broken fundamental laws and made...a Horcrux."

Gasps sounded round the room as everyone thought about the implications of Voldemort being seemingly immortal.

"Quite," Dumbledore said. "I only suspected however, and with Voldemort seemingly gone, few at the Ministry were going to ask questions such as these."

All three Ministry members winced at the sharp but correct accusation before he continued, "Of course, Harry was safely away and the Order of the Phoenix stood down, albeit cautiously. Unfortunately, a few Death Eaters knew of the prophecy and were told to kill the young Longbottom family as an insurance in case Voldemort chose the incorrect boy. I believe you are all familiar with what happened next." Dumbledore stopped for a moment and looked down, knowing he was responsible at least for those two brave people being tortured.

"All my research pointed to the Horcrux being the tool by which Voldemort stayed alive, but I did not wish to believe it. You see, I highly doubted that Voldemort could be so depraved as to split his soul," Dumbledore said with a sigh before being interrupted by an incredulous bark of laughter from Fudge.

"Voldemort, not depraved?" he snorted, "I should expect him to be one of the most utterly _insane_ people ever to curse these shores."

"Ah, I doubt he was the most deluded," Dumbledore interjected, "But Cornelius, Lord Voldemort, whatever his faults, was a magical prodigy and not one I would have thought to fall into the trap a few other wizards have."

"You see, splitting the soul is not just diabolically evil, it also is one of the only things we can do that actually _breaks_ the 'natural order' as it were. Horcruxes were discovered thousands of years ago yet how many undying people have you heard of, apart from Flamel? No, the binding process _dooms_ the caster in some way, either they repent and die from the pain that involves or a deeper magic beyond my comprehension arranges their downfall through other means. Voldemort must have, in his research of the dark magic's involved in creating such a horror, come across tales...no, _warnings_ of others who have made merely ONE Horcrux and failed in their quest."

"He apparently ignored, or I believe now, deluded himself into thinking that he would be stronger than any opposition the world could throw at him. That is why he panicked upon hearing the prophecy. Here was evidence that his downfall was upon him...and so it turned out to be. Now, going off of all of this, I also knew that if he did create a Horcrux, he would not think to stop at merely one." Dumbledore stopped again to let that sink in. The three powerful political figures were now gripping their seats in fear.

"More? The maniac made tore his being to shreds and scattered them all over the planet?" Madam Bones actually sounded despairing in her words.

"Unfortunately, it seems that I am correct in that he has created more. We must therefore find Voldemort's Horcruxes as soon as possible. It is the only way to stop him permanently," Dumbledore finished, looking to each person sat across from him in turn.

Both Bones and Scrimgeour looked resolutely back at him now he had laid out a plan of attack. They were not the type to despair when lines were drawn. They were both excellent warriors in that respect

Fudge looked lost.

Dumbledore looked at him sympathetically, the man had never been in such a political shitstorm before. Now they would see whether the peace time leader had a spine in his body and fists to match. Apparently the two other Ministry officials were beginning to think along the same lines and were glancing cautiously at their leader to see how he would react.

"Right..." Fudge started after much consideration. "We are going to come down on this issue hard and fast. Amelia, your department's funding just went up. Get our Hit Wizard section back up to pre-war strength and tell them they have their war powers back, with a few adjustments. I want Aurors being taught by the old guard on how to engage criminals in wartime. Get Moody back from internal security if you have to."

"Scrimgeour, we need to go to the non-magical government and get the Raker initiative back up and running. They've grown stronger in the past ten years and given their own lack of threats at the moment, they should be able to lend more aid than before."

"Dumbledore...I'm sure you have other plans but you also need to inform the International Confederation with all haste. Get us support before the Swiss make everyone sign a non-aggression agreement like last time, and try and get the Canadians to stop bullying the rest of the continent for five minutes so they can help us."

"As for myself, I'm going to the Goblins and _grovel_ if needs be for their help. They really came through for the Rakers last time because they actually decided to give a shit about them and made it worth their while. We are going to need their help to 'acquire' some 'former' Death Eater fortunes to pay for all this. Together, the Goblin-Wizard alliance of old not only built the Ministry of Magic, but also the impenetrable prison in which we house our most despicable criminals. It is time we reminded ourselves of that."

No one was expecting such commands from Cornelius Fudge, Minister for kissing Malfoy's arse but their surprise quickly turned to respect and determination on their part. Dumbledore nodded approvingly.

"Very good. I think we need to inform the higher ups in the Ministry if no one else. I would not be so bold as to say that the Dementors should be destroyed, but they should be removed from the island at once. Perhaps Warrick or Duncan will have some ideas about securing that place a little better than before. I will see you all tomorrow. Please excuse me, I must check up upon my students and speak to Mr Potter about today's events," Dumbledore said, bowing to them all before sweeping out of them room.

He was pleased that the meeting had gone so well. When Voldemort returned, he was going to be met with a resolute country, standing together, shoulder to shoulder...well, hopefully, anyway.


	19. Chapter 19: New Horizons

**AEU **Chapter 19****

Harry surveyed his family inside of the mirror.

What was odd...what was so strange to him at this point, was that he wasn't feeling happy or sad or choked up or...anything like he felt when Hagrid brought him those photos. There was only a cold presence within him seemingly sucking everything within him from the inside out.

His family was dead and nothing was going to bring them now this mirror was opening the half closed, fully forgotten wound in his heart.

The mirror itself, Harry reflected, was ancient. Who knew how long it had resided at Hogwarts or what its original purpose at the castle was? It seemed to show the person who stood directly in front of it what they desired...or so claimed the writing on the frame. Did he desire this? Above everything else, did he desire to see his family?

Or perhaps...perhaps it was the fact _he_ was there too, with them. Was he desiring death with them? What did all this mean?

The fact that Harry's mind was wandering was not lost on him. He wondered exactly what sort of damage his mental facilities had taken on if this was his reaction to seeing his parents, _his_ parents, for the first time in something more than a picture.

Indifference? No...he _did_ desire this over everything else...he just didn't...or couldn't express what he felt within him at that moment.

It was into this internal conflict that Dumbledore intruded into.

"Harry, I know you are probably still overwhelmed by the events of the past few hours but there are certain things you need to know," the headmaster said softly.

Peering over his half-moon spectacles, he could see that Harry was either hiding his emotions well or wasn't affected by what he saw.

"Tell me Harry, what do you see in the mirror?" Dumbledore asked, even though he knew it was a private matter but he had been so sure that Harry would see something akin to what the old man himself used to see...

"Well, my parents, and people I assume to be my extended family...on both sides I think." Harry answered back at the professor, giving a backward glance to the mirror before turning his full attention to the headmaster.

Dumbledore's insides froze.

What had _happened_ to this child?

Albus Dumbledore had been a teacher for too long to be fooled by children and their deceptions. There was nothing in Harry's demeanour that told the professor he was putting on a brave face, acting indifferent or hiding away. He genuinely seemed to be uncaring of his deepest desire...either he had the most complete poker face Dumbledore had ever seen or the child had a serious issue with his emotions.

Dumbledore was trying not to have Riddle flashbacks.

"Well Harry, I presume you have some questions about Lord Voldemort as well as perhaps fears about what lies ahead?" he began, not quite knowing now how much information he should give to the boy.

_'No...Not a boy. He may very well be eleven years of age, but he has not been a child in a very long time. Now steel yourself Albus, tell him everything. But EVERYTHING? How can I tell him about the Horcrux?'_ Dumbledore internally cringed as Harry nodded at him.

"Sir, I don't understand as to why Voldemort was there at my parents' house that night, looking for us." Harry began, "the only reason I see for us to be in the country at all, never mind our own house would be if we were bait in a trap."

"Just so Harry, although it wasn't your parents' house."

"Oh. Who's was it?" Harry asked curiously

"My own," Dumbledore said simply. "We knew Voldemort was after you and decided to use that to our advantage. Every effort was made to ensure your safety, with both your parents agreeing to die for you...if it came to that."

Harry blinked and the headmaster suppressed a sigh of relief (and then felt horrible) as the first signs of emotion appeared on the boy's face.

"Before that however, we engineered a trap for Voldemort. If and when he came to the house, he would be sealed inside it. It took a killing curse that backfired on himself to destroy that particular enchantment. Our friends in the non-magical world had agreed to lend us the use of some aircraft to strafe the house once your parents were clear, our own forces would appear a few minutes later to deal with the repercussions...clear up the damage and modify non-magical memories and such. Unfortunately, we had a spy in our midst that accelerated events forward. The details were still being ironed out with command forces when Voldemort suddenly turned up stealthily in Godric's Hollow, bypassing many of our alarms and defences designed to buy us time."

"We had been betrayed."

"Voldemort entered the house and sealed it himself. Your father confronted him and duelled him for a time, but in an enclosed space and with killing curses...he fell. Your mother of course, cast herself in front of you," Dumbledore paused to see how Harry was taking all this information.

The boy was absorbing it all whilst looking at a crumbling bit of wall. He could see the pieces coming together for him, and yet no tears, no quick wipe of the eyes did he see. The walls within him had been rebuilt and sealed.

The boy was taking his parents murder far too easily. For the thousandth time, Dumbledore cursed himself for allowing all of this to happen, for him to have done this to a child, for Black for causing him to do it and to Voldemort, who had destroyed so much.

Too much.

"Sirius Black...was your father's oldest friend. They met on the train to Hogwarts in their first year. He was the best man at their wedding...and he was..._is..._your Godfather. That man was secretly a follower of Voldemort, secret to even the Death Eaters. It was he who told Voldemort where you were and how to avoid all of our traps. He resides now in a cell in the highest security prison we have available." Dumbledore finished the last piece of information he was going to give to Harry.

He would now answer his questions honestly, but only if asked.

Harry was reeling from the implication that friends could betray you. He tried to imagine Ron being his friend for years before suddenly betraying him. Or Hermione.

No...neither of them could have it in them..._could they_?

Harry remembered the picture of Black next to his father on his parents wedding day. He seemed so good in that image. Not evil, but happy to see his friends marry. Had he turned by that point? Had he been forced?

"Sir, do we know why he did what he did?" Harry asked.

"Sirius? Alas, we may never know the real reason," Dumbledore said glumly.

Catching sight of Harry's outraged face, he quickly amended, "The week after Voldemort's downfall was a hectic time for all of us. I was away seeing to your future..." and he told a stupefied Harry about 'The Plan' as they put it. How Harry was placed at his relatives, how the wizarding world broke and reformed...then Dumbledore got back to his question.

"That week, many were tried in our courts. The Minister and Director Crouch were merciless in their proceedings. We only found out two years ago when the late Minister was replaced with Fudge exactly how unjustly many were tried. Many trials were as long as thirty seconds, with some carted straight to Azkaban. Sirius Black was one of those people."

"We are still trying to go through everyone to get proper trials. Several hundred people were imprisoned in the last month of the war and Sirius was one of the last. I believe we are trying him in a few months. Whilst I would hesitate to invite you, I would give you a personal promise that the truth **will** out in this case."

Harry nodded in appreciation. Many questions leapt at him, but few were important. He decided to stick with the vital things still confusing him.

"Sir...I realise that this knowledge is dangerous. The _truth_ is a dangerous thing, and therefore must be treated with great caution, but I need to know this if you can tell me...why _were_ my parents and I targeted by Lord Voldemort himself?"

Albus Dumbledore was, for once, at a loss for words. How to explain what was in and of itself, a meaningless prophecy? It was the worst question he could have been asked, but one he had to give a satisfying answer to, for otherwise the boy would be as ignorant and as blind as Voldemort himself was.

He began by telling Harry about why most dark wizards, even the truly evil ones, never made Horcruxes whilst telling of what happened to those who did. Harry nodded. Voldemort was clearly insane but would have been looking out for any signs that indicated his own fate.

Dumbledore performed a strange leg movement that summoned a huge red and orange bird.

"Fawkes," he indicated by way of introduction, "is a Phoenix I had the pleasure of meeting rather soon after the downfall of Grindelwald. Eventually, through a quite extraordinary series of events, he became something akin to a companion and most certainly a valued friend. Please take up one of his tail feathers."

Harry cautiously did so, not wishing to cause pain to a bird nearly three quarters his size. A blaze of fire surrounded him and he jerked backwards into what he supposed to be the headmaster's study, judging by the immense amount of books, artefacts and silvery thingies that he was sure had very important and concise names.

"Please do take care not to knock over these silvery thingies, Harry. For the life of me, I can't figure out what most of these them do," Dumbledore said, serenely gliding around to sit at his desk. "Now then! Please observe this image," he said, as a cabinet close to Harry opened to show a bowl lined with strange glowing symbols that appeared to be carved out of one piece of smooth white marble.

Waving his hand, Dumbledore's mystery bowl emitted a...well Harry supposed it looked like a hologram, of both the headmaster and a strange, ugly woman Harry had seen sometimes at the high table.

People referred to her as, among other things, Professor Trelawney.

He listened on to hear a strange interview, followed by the woman speaking very strangely. The prophecy, Harry thought, seemed all too vague to him. This dark lord could be Voldemort, or it could be someone else. Surely there were many people who had defied Voldemort three times or had babies born at the end of July or at the start of August?

And this 'power the Dark Lord know not'...well, that could be virtually anything related to the non-magical world, or some sort of natural disaster. Overall, Harry thought it seemed more like the ravings of a lunatic than proper advice although, he reminded himself, if _he_ was a dark lord who was constantly looking over his shoulder for a enemy he knew the universe would one day throw at him, this prophecy would certainly pique his interest.

Harry nodded when the image was done.

"It was as you say, Headmaster. Altogether, quite useless unless you were already fearful of something like it," Harry answered the old man's unsaid question, trying to figure out how he himself felt about 'neither can live whilst the other survives'.

Dumbledore nodded, "Whilst I have never considered myself to always being one hundred percent correct on any matter, I concur with your view. It is nothing to concern yourself over, just knowledge that Voldemort desperately seeks and will never understand how he himself caused it to happen."

The boy was still deep in thought, so Dumbledore roused him with a chuckle, "Think on, Mr Potter. Rest assured, you are safe for the time being. Go back to your common room and reassure your friends."

"But sir, what are those things on the side of the bowl?" Harry asked curiously.

"This is a pensive, and these are runic letters imbued with magical power. It is the wizard method most capable of producing a permanent spell, as our magic is naturally far less...permanent than that of the Goblins and vice versa," Dumbledore answered, seemingly more at ease now he was back in the role of a teacher again.

"That sounds cool. Can I learn it?" Harry asked earnestly.

Dumbledore chuckled and bowed his head, "Your eagerness is commendable Mr Potter. Ancient Runes begins in third year as an optional...but seen as you are interested now..."

Headmaster Dumbledore looked politely at the shelf over Harry's shoulder, which good naturally coughed a small, worn leather bound book into the boy's hands.

"Whilst I follow the school of thought that teaches that books are not at all sacred, do try to be careful with that one. And no experimentation without planning and oversight, do you understand me?" Dumbledore said with a touch of command in his voice.

Harry nodded dumbly and rose to leave.

"Oh and Harry?"

He turned round questioningly.

"A very Happy New Year to you."


	20. Chapter 20: Complications

**AEU Chapter 20**

Colonel Hardy sat straight backed in his wingback chair, trying to resist the urge to slump. His upbringing and lifestyle demanded control in all things, including his posture. Plus he didn't want his children developing any bad habits from himself.

All around his office were little reminders and memories of his past years. The three frames filled with medals. The two shards of metal the field doctor once took out of his left thigh. Eighteen different photographs of the various platoons, units, companies and teams he had both lead and commanded. And out of sight of the children, in a securely locked drawer, three identical semi-automatic handguns with ammunition capable of piercing giant, dragon and troll skin.

Colonel Hardy was in fact, the retired commander of the entirety of the Raker Taskforce. And now it seemed, his country desired his service once again.

He was not afraid, nor truly angry at being drafted (though he regretted that he was not the soldier he once was). No...it was the number he had unfolded out in front of him that was bothering him. He couldn't remember why, but it was imperative that this man knew the Rakers were coming back first, before he warned the rest of the old guard (their summons were coming, but he had requested a day to phone everyone first).

But why was it so critical? He couldn't really recall a 'Humphrey' other than the official advisor to the Rakers, whom was surely back with the magicals now and already in the loop? Regardless, Charles Hardy knew that he had better call just in case he _didn't_ know. Then he could go through all the other names quickly.

He dialled and the phone connected almost instantly and was answered a second afterwards.

"Colonel Hardy?" A cool voice said on the other side of the line.

"Is this Humphrey?" Hardy asked, even though he knew from the voice that it was.

"But of course. What is troubling you, Colonel?" Humphrey probed, seemingly completely unsurprised by the call or Hardy's question.

"This is in relation to a request made ten years ago. The Rakers are being reformed and I think they are trying to get as many former members back as possible," Hardy said patiently, remembering how, even after ten years of utter silence, that Humphrey was not one to be rushed.

"And why is Her Majesties' Government doing that?" Humphrey said, after a brief pause.

"Basically, we have a confirmed sighting and confrontation with Tom Riddle, alias Lord Voldemort, and the Minister for Magic...um...Fudge, I believe his name is..."

"I believe it is also," the voice said unhurriedly. "Continue."

"Right...so he came to us for help and the higher-ups said yes so now everyone's on a war footing and Whitehall's gone nuts and-"

"I understand," Humphrey interjected. "And I am to be requested again?"

"Are you fine with that? For the life of me, I don't think the intelligence chiefs remember you!"

"Fancy that."

Hardy paused for a moment. This was one thing he really had not missed about the magical world. Everyone spoke in riddles.

"Colonel?" Humphrey said, bringing Hardy back to reality.

"Oh yes! Sorry...so, right. What do you think?"

"I believe I have a report to hand in," the voice said with an air of finality.

"Does that mean you'll come?" Hardy pursued.

"Oh I should think so. Provided of course that you keep-"

"Ah...but I think brass wants him back," Hardy replied nervously.

"Then I shall speak to them first thing tomorrow. He is not to be involved. Not yet. Not unless it is truly necessary."

Hardy flinched at the coldness the other end of the line had descended to.

"I'm sure they'll see it your way," he said placating.

"People often do," Humphrey said, before disconnecting.

Charles Hardy was left holding the receiver to his ear, his hearing slowing filling with static as he reflected on what was to come. Placing the phone down and reaching behind him, he poured himself a good drink of scotch before raising it to the photographs on the wall.

"Here's to you, lads," he drank, sombrely.

Then he picked up the receiver and dialled anew.

* * *

It was proving to be a horrible day for Cornelius Fudge.

The Muggle-sorry, _non-magical_ Prime Minister was no stranger to war, having served in the exhaustingly disappointing position of Defence Minister for many years. He however, had no inclination in discussions involving a civil war in his own country.

The Muggles were going to be in charge of the combined effort or they were going to do it alone. Fudge didn't really have a leg to stand on in this instance. He didn't run the country, wizards were outnumbered by these lot on a massive scale and their armed forces were going to put down far more targets than his aurors were, just through sheer force alone.

"This Azkaban prison..." a man identified as an Admiral in their sea forces said, "We could place the island under observation by a patrol unit, or even a cruiser since we aren't using them at the moment."

"And? What help can a few boats give us?" Scrimgeour said.

The collective Muggle representation winced as they knew through experience never to doubt or belittle the Navy in any way, unless you wanted to receive several incredibly jingoistic lectures about how much they matter.

"Well..." the Admiral began, bristling his moustache, "We can put the ship or ships as the case may be, fairly far away from the island. Simply tell the inmates that if any one tries to escape, it will be bombarded by several incredibly powerful guns that will turn the building they are in, along with themselves, into ash."

The nonchalant way in which he described power that few wizards had ever held cowed the head auror back into silence.

"That would be excellent if possible. Whilst the building itself is indestructible as far as we can tell, your explosions would certainly kill any escapees. The goblins are already going to improve security there along with some of their own...shall we say, _unique, _way of guarding things," Madam Bones said delicately, unsure of how the non-magicals would react to having several dragons being put in an enclosed space.

"Hmm..." the Prime Minister decided not to ask exactly what the goblins wanted to do. Ever since they called him up out of the blue with a letter delivered to him (by an _owl_ of all things), he had decided to let them do whatever they wished.

He had also fired his private accountant.

Dumbledore looked directly at the man sat with a straight back against the wall who had been watching the proceedings with consternation.

"What say you, Colonel Hardy? Are the Rakers willing and able to come back, or do we have to start from scratch again?" the old wizard said with concern, knowing more than most that non-magicals were not quite as spry as wizards when as they aged, even though most recruits from last time would only be in their thirties now.

The steel grey haired man focused his steady eyes on the questioner.

He liked Dumbledore, the man was like his former second in command in that they each viewed the world far differently than everyone else. If you spoke to either one for five minutes, you would leave enlightened, the question you asked having been answered by yourself after their gentle hints.

Still, the old geezer was a teacher, not a warrior, whatever these fools in the magical world thought. The man clearly wished nothing better but to go back to his study and read, or perhaps teach a few intelligent children what's what, not plan a war he had already fought once.

"That is difficult to say sir. Humphrey for one was seemingly up for returning, I imagine a few others aren't going to be like that though. They have families to take care of now. Children that now aren't infants, which need their parents there."

"I do think many will leap at the chance to get back into action, but we need some new blood too. The oldest member of the veterans will be thirty nine this year. You can't expect us to all fight again when Lord Voldemort eventually shows up. By my reckoning, it'll take two, maybe three years to drum up the numbers back unto what we are used to. However, it seems that we have quite a bit of time to do it in."

The man spoke quietly and with consideration. The whole room was listening in to what he had to say. Like it or not, the Rakers were key to the whole scheme. Normal armed forces (hopefully) weren't going to do the brunt of the fighting.

"What do you suggest, Charles?" Dumbledore asked.

"Recruit the best of what everyone can offer, like last time. Train them up some more and hopefully they'll be ready by the time Lord Voldemort shows up. We still have a magical section in the SAS, the Paras and the intelligence branches. I can call on them too. We need a good mix of both magic and non-magic, like last time."

The room lapsed into silence once more.

"I think enough has been said tonight," the Minister of Magic said, getting to his feet.

"Oh, just one more thing Minister," the Prime Minister said, an edge to his voice this time.

"We want something back for doing all this for you."

Cornelius sensed the metaphorical shit before it hit the fan.

He sighed, "What does your government want?"

The Prime Minister got to his feet.

"Our government, _our_ _world_ wants one thing from you once this conflict is over. "

Fudge nodded apprehensively, before freezing when the next sentence was spoken.

"We want you to come out of hiding."

* * *

Humphrey watched as the last leaf fell from the tree within his favourite park. It seemed the chill of winter was on its way. He'd have to remember to update his aesthetic to match the drop in temperature.

A grey coat to go with his grey suit.


	21. Chapter 21: Orders of magnitude

**AEU Chapter 21**

It had been nearly a month since the forcible ejection of Lord Voldemort from Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmaster Dumbledore had been away recently and so there had been no official announcement about the events that occurred over the Christmas break. Unfortunately for three students in particular, there weeks had been more than enough time for the Hogwarts rumour mill to do the rounds amongst the student body.

Harry had in recent weeks been at the end of many stares and points, more so than usual, at least for him.

The current theory/outright rumour going round at the moment was that he alone had followed Quirrell into the depths of Hogwarts, fighting dragons along the way until he smote down the dark wizard Voldemort (again) with the mythical sword of Gryffindor. This story was particularly outlandish and had both Harry and Hermione both giggling when they heard it first mentioned from the Hufflepuff table.

Ron however, was basking in the adoration of the school. Everyone had heard of his chess prowess and just assumed he had outplayed McGonagall at her own game. He was beginning to tire of all the attention however, not only were the stares and whispers annoying but girls staring at him freaked him out.

He wondered how Harry handled it on a day to day basis.

In fact Harry had noticed a fairly abrupt change on both of his friends. Hermione had become more willing to accept new ideas since Christmas, when she had been beaten multiple times by both Ron and Harry at chess.

Ron on the other hand, had not only become more serious after seeing Lord Voldemort's spirit fly past him but he had also gotten extremely determined to live and breathe chess after Harry had _finally_ managed to beat him once. A pass time was now becoming a bit of a challenge between the two of them.

Ron had been noticeably quiet for a few days after the events in the third floor, and one could have supposed this was something that had kicked him into shape, giving him the drive and energy that he had lacked before. Fear does that to people. Whatever the case, this new Ron Weasley was beginning to turn up inside the classroom as well. His note taking and attention span had both improved in quality and in length. Whilst the spells he found to be still difficult, he was becoming a determined trier. He wasn't brilliant by any means yet but actually doing his class and homework probably aided him a good deal.

Hermione and Harry hadn't commented yet, except to congratulate him when he got more points than usual, but they hoped that this spelled a new leaf for their friend.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had been fairly quiet in recent months, fully prepared to sit back and 'reside' in his position as inglorious bastard since he was swiftly pulled from Hogwarts for 'a chat' with his imperious father, who was, in everyone's opinion, more sticky than Argus Filch after mucking out the toilets. Harry had been hopeful that his actions in aiding a fellow broomstick rider had shown Malfoy's true colours.

In truth, the boy seemed to be prone to an occasional bought of character which seemed to raise him somewhat in people's estimation, until nurture reasserted itself and he fell back into the snake pit cunningly dug for him by his father since birth. Said father was now pulling the strings of power once more. Harry had, however slightly, interfered with the workings of Lucius Malfoy. According to the Prophet, all convicted Death Eater, suspected Death Eater, and Death Eater related accounts at Gringotts had been frozen whilst the Ministry did what it assured readers to be a 'customary glance through' to ensure that there were no dark objects in the vaults.

Malfoy Senior was involved with the Death Eaters, technically 'under the influence' whatever that meant, meaning that his vault was shut down hard when the Goblins agreed to the Ministry scheme.

Fortunately for their family, Lucius was not so stupid as to put everything in his vault. A large portion of his wealth was unaffected, hence why Draco was still prancing around, pretending to be intimidating.

Still, the Malfoys had been inconvenienced. They couldn't touch the Ministry at the moment, their popularity was skyrocketing since their crack down on crime. Dumbledore was laughably untouchable which left the great house of Malfoy only one option.

To bully a few schoolchildren.

Draco Malfoy himself was not quite the thinker his dad appeared to be. He had been caught so many times trying to 'prank' Harry (in the Dudley Dursley sense) and his friends by Filch, McGonagall, Flitwick, Mrs. Norris, the Weasley twins, Percy, Penelope Clearwater, Snape and Harry himself that his detention catalogue was both varied and awful. Snape was being particularly mean to his godson.

Nothing was more reprehensible to a Slytherin than doing a bad deed...and getting caught.

* * *

This added attention, in addition to the growing success of the Gryffindor Quidditch team made Harry feel like a zoo exhibit, a 'freak', as Aunt..._his mother's sister_ was so found of describing him.

He found some respite in the library, as the Ravenclaws, the only steady student population within its cavernous depths, were so often lost within their own thoughts that they forgot to breath. Hermione had been supportive in this trying time, even when a ridiculous rumour went round that Harry's love for her had overpowered Voldemort.

_'Tcha...I know Love is something Voldemort doesn't know about but I think it being the power he knows not would be a stretch too far!'_ Harry thought as he stalked out of a Herbology lesson in which half the females in attendance were staring at him rather than the Devil's Snare wrapping round their clueless bodies.

Madam Pomfrey was in for a busy afternoon today.

The deep thoughts of the eleven year old wizard were broken by the arrival of Professor Snape.

"Mr Potter, I carry a message from the Headmaster. He wants to see you in his office after lunch. Oh and by the way, I was rather pleased with your potions mark. Perhaps you might have a brain under all that idiot courage of yours..." The potions master said before bluntly forestalling any conversation that announcement might have brought by gliding away, robes billowing behind him.

"Someone must know how he does that," Harry mused aloud.

He was quite correct though, Harry's marks from his mocks were fairly good. Only Hermione had done better overall, though Terry Boot, Padma Patil and Daphne Greengrass had all done very well and were superior in many subjects. Draco Malfoy had, somehow, come eighth overall, despite his lack of common sense.

Everyone seemed surprised that only two Ravenclaws were in the top four, but Harry knew better than anyone that intelligence can seemingly be found anywhere. He had not come to Hogwarts expecting academic success by any means of his imagination...yet here he was. It was curious really. He took to magic like he had done it all before.

* * *

When Harry visited Hagrid on Friday, he learnt of his friend's special little project.

It turned out Hagrid had been having private classes for years with Dumbledore and a few other 'good friends'. In fact, were he not banned from practising magic he could have done a good set of OWL exams and a dreaded NEWT in magical creatures. Harry still didn't know how Hagrid had managed to get himself expelled and it seemed to be a forbidden topic amongst polite conversation.

His cooking prowess had improved greatly too, with an aim to expand his garden and pumpkin patch to perhaps grow more of his own food and also supply more to the school. Dumbledore had seemed very keen with this idea. He gave Hagrid a raise just for planting an apple tree, though Harry thought he could understand that at least. Pumpkin juice was a very boring flavour to say the least, with water and milk not much better.

Hagrid was in his element and very much toasting to a new year...well into February, to the continuing consternation of Professor McGonagall.

Barring drunken half-giants, Harry had kept up with his bank statements, gotten an idea as to what to get for Ron's twelfth birthday (sweets and a Chudley Cannon hat) and been studying up on what exactly was coming up in second year. The last one had not been his idea nor something he particularly wanted to do. Being Hermione Granger's best friend however...

In the library, he had gotten side tracked by Neville, who was reading _seventh year _past essays on Herbology. The boy had a green thumb, arm, leg and eye when it came to plants. Recently, he had saved Harry from a nasty cold by diving at him when a Gargumptious Grangler snorted its spores at him. Having been bruised by a fairly large boy landing on top of him, Harry immediately invited the him to tea with Hagrid. This not only led to yet another student quizzing Hagrid relentlessly (although this time on pants and not animals) but also eventually to the admittance that Neville was deeply concerned about his wand work.

Flitwick had been very nice when Harry had finally dragged a resigned Neville before him. He snorted when the boy admitted that his grandmother was huffy about the subject, revealing that she was worse than useless at it when she was at school. The student and teacher were from then on a common sight in the library. Neville was grateful that he was improving and Flitwick grateful that Longbottom was no longer flinging him around the room with his poor aim.

* * *

Transfiguration was coming to Harry fairly easily now. He found visualising the object he wished for aided his spell attempts, though he had trouble thinking in three dimensions. His tea cup, when finished transfiguring from an oyster, was beautifully patterned on one side whilst on the other...

"Really Harry, it looks like a child has gone over a blank tea cup with a marker pen," Hermione said, stifling giggles.

Harry had learned in the past few months not to get angry with Hermione when it came to class work. She seemed to expect perfection from everyone, including herself, with the first try. That impossibility of course, led to more than enough stress and aggravation from both herself and others.

"Ah but Miss Granger, were you quite sure you wanted an ornate china tea cup...that could be used by a mouse perhaps?" Harry shot back with a grin.

Ron laughed at the tiny cup but was quietly impressed by the craftsmanship, though he would never admit it out loud. His plain cup was almost right...if he could stop making the varnish look like oyster shell.

"Let me see, you three," McGonagall said, coming over from Dean and Seamus' table.

She examined the three cups.

"Mr Weasley, you must focus on the _cup_, not the oyster. Make sure the wand movement is a flourish and not a sweep too. Remember that whilst you can see the oyster shell, you want the teacup.

Miss Granger, you need to think about the size in relation to something, a hand holding the cup perhaps? Otherwise, repeat what you have done.

Mr Potter...you have an excellent eye for detail but you lack _focus_. Don't be too eager to transfigure so quickly. Please think about the process for several seconds longer before casting.

Remember, as with all Transfiguration-"

"Cast only when sure!" the trio chorused back.

Their teacher gave a rare twitch of a smile before moving on.

"I'm worried about transfiguring glass next year. How _the hell_ are we supposed to visualise that?" Harry said to Hermione.

They both had taken to the visualisation process fairly easily whilst Ron focused more on the normal spell and wand movements. Both were fairly difficult to put together but then again, this was a hard subject. The visualisation aspect took years to master and it was prudent to, as Ron was doing, learn the spell and wand movements first.

"I'm more worried about Potions," Ron said, blushing when the other two rolled their eyes at him.

Ron had turned out to be a reasonable brewer of potions, in glaring opposition to what Harry had thought at the start of the year. His patience and careful planning in his chess and Quidditch hobbies was slowly working its way into every class, even with the added pressure of Severus Snape. Neville, surprisingly, wasn't half bad at ingredient preparation either, even though he still failed in executing the actual methods in brewing the potions they had to make...though whether this was because of his nervous disposition or because of Snape's nasty habit of waiting poised behind the boy waiting for him to make a mistake, Harry could only guess at.

Ron was becoming good enough in Potions now to actually start caring about his marks (that is, Snape didn't fail him nearly half as much), hence his constant worrying about them. Harry wasn't as concerned, mostly because he had never cared a great deal about getting good marks before.

As for Hermione Granger, Harry was now neither surprised nor unconcerned when she expressed not only a desire to ace everything but panic obsessively over her work from now until May. It was odd really, as of the three of them, she performed the best in everything and had never had a bad mark, poor comment or anything less than praise from teachers (she got silence from Snape. In fact, it was entirely possible Snape was barely complimentary to Harry purely to get at her). Now she was once again at work, and heaven strike him down if her teacup wasn't now a perfect piece of porcelain.

* * *

Hermione suppressed the satisfaction over transforming the ouster and leaned back into her chair as she waited for her friends to finish.

Her friends?

It seemed so. Ron was certainly no Harry Potter but he was hardly the boy who used to insult her without restraint either. She didn't know when they had gone from passably reasonable to friends, but she was rather glad they had. He was quite funny and wasn't so nearly as dumb as his...flamboyant siblings would have the school believe. His teacup flickered and spun round slightly. Harry quietly touched the boy's arm and reminded him of the correct motion again. The faint tinge of red on Ron's ears was quickly vanished by the appearance of a plain, perfectly functional teacup on his desk.

Harry, Hermione thought with a flicker of disappointed acceptance, would one day eclipse her as a magical wielder. He was without a doubt a powerful practitioner already, even if he didn't always get it right in class. She could see it in both Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick's faces when he sometimes cast spells first time perfectly. She felt a twinge of envy towards her first real friend whenever that happened, as he made what was in actuality a fair bit of study and struggle for her seem effortless to him.

But she knew this wasn't fair. He rarely 'got' a spell first before her, as she described but when he managed it, he performed it near perfectly most times. Study-wise, he retained as much as she did, despite his claims to the contrary. She wondered how her normally logical friend chose to ignore how he could answer with extraordinary detail what he had been doing on a certain day or what a certain book had said to do. Only her father and she herself had shown anything like that sort of memory.

He wasn't yet the know-it-all she knew herself to be known as, but he was more instinctive and creative in his methods, using simple spells to do the variety of things her more advanced repertoire could. This tended to bite him in the arse when he had to do essays on the more complicated spells that he didn't use very often. He wasn't quite getting _incendio_ yet either...

On the whole though, he was a good friend, a budding intellectual and was quickly growing not only in stature (not in height. Hermione had never seen a smaller boy his age) but also in followers. She had noticed, and shared in, Harry's annoyance over his 'fan base'. Really, some of those...some of those people must be in third year. Hermione looked around from her seat next to the boys. The library seemed very 'full' today.

'_This cannot bode well'_ she thought.


	22. Chapter 22: Different Leagues

**AEU Chapter 22**

'_Ah, Barcelona,_' Albus Dumbledore thought as he walked down the side street in a royal blue suit with brass buttons.

Leave it to Horace Slughorn to retire here of all places. With The Goblin Nation's Cornucopia just across the way from the European base for the ICW, the old codger was living close to the beating political heart of the magical world for both Humans and Goblins.

The old man had just got back from announcing the dark lord's discovery in the central chamber. It had prompted a world-wide search that everyone believed would prove fruitless. There was also the problem of the non-magical ultimatum. Not only had the UK government practically ordered the Ministry to reveal itself, all other ministries were receiving similar demands.

Their attitude was seemingly quite clear:

_'Oh you foolish little people. You thought that you were going to be secret forever? Well guess what, morons? The world has moved on and you have to as well. Be grateful we are ALLOWING you come back with our support and not just letting the general public figure out your existence by themselves.'_

It wasn't as if the ICW tried to resist. The Canadian ministry, which had conquered the invading US ministry nearly two centuries ago, had raised hell when the president had dared make a demand of them. They were silenced when he smugly slid a packet across the table. In it were the most damning photographs, personal records and information about wizardry. All ministries had received such packages.

Again, the non-magicals were sending a message.

'_Your secret is already blown._

_Our technology is too great. You can hide now but in a few years even WE won't be able to keep your secret.'_

The UN was not very sympathetic. The world needed magic back and soon, the Security Council wasn't afraid to crack the whip to get the wizards to the negotiating table.

Dumbledore knew that they had probably been planning to do this anyway within a few short years. With the end of their Cold War, humanity was for once entirely focused on internal affairs and the energy crisis was still fresh in their minds. They had been polite about it. They had given them a few years to prepare but everyone was now working against a ticking clock to make sure that the reveal would go smoothly when it eventually came.

The Rakers had come back in droves, with over there quarters of the force voluntarily returning to duty whilst the others were...digging their heels in, begging to be left alone. They, the Rakers, were trailing him now on this little expedition to find out exactly how many copies of Lord Voldemort there were dotted around. Dumbledore hoped for a small amount, but the shivers down his spine told him otherwise.

_'Strange_,' Dumbledore thought,_ 'the flowers are budding and yet it doesn't feel as if Spring is coming.'_

* * *

"You absolute morons!" Hardy shouted to the room.

"Easy Charlie," Duncan, a goblin sat next to him said.

"What were they thinking? Did they even read the report we gave at the end of the last conflict?"

"They seem to think their technology has-"

"We. Haven't. Got. There. Yet." Hardy growled. "Those idiots think we can simply bulldoze through magic with force of arms, photographs and explosives!"

"Yeah, I know," Duncan said, shaking his head.

"I mean, oh God…" Hardy held his head in his hands. "Do they not realise that we can fight wizards for perhaps a few weeks and months at best before they put us in a position where we will either have to nuke the world or surrender unconditionally?"

"It's worse than that," Duncan said grimly. His friend didn't move from his head-in-hands position so he continued. "The ICW-"

"Their UN?"

"Sort of but far more dangerously competent. Trust me when I say, those guys and girls are far more powerful than anything you've ever fought. There's a reason why Dumbledore heads them directly."

Hardy sat in silence for a while, considering the enormous political cock-up that could well doom humanity and everything else to extinction.

"I suppose…they do overestimate our power," he said slowly. "To hear them talk, every one of our soldiers is Raker quality-"

"-Hah, yes! And that you have unlimited amounts of helicopter gunships and so on. To be fair also, if you decided to drop the rulebook and play dirty, you could probably use some bio warfare on their arses."

Hardy wrinkled his face.

"I don't think I could do that. Even then, we are talking apocalyptic situations, even if we all fight to a standstill or we win somehow. Honestly…I pray to whatever God there is up there that someone in the big chair on either side backs down quickly or this could be the end of everything."

"I agree. I suppose we have our work cut out for us then?"

"Telling the entirety of the nonmagical world governments that they are hopelessly outmatched? Dear God man, we are in for a shitter of a time and that's an understatement."

"And if one single wizarding ministry decides not to play ball, that's it. They'll all join up together if shots are fired and even if they all say do it, the ICW will have final say."

"So the fate of the world…"

"Rests in the hands of some powerful politicians being reasonable and knowing when to back down and work together."

They both sat silent for a moment.

"Guess you'll have to practice that stiff upper lip bullshit of yours some more then," Duncan grinned macabrely. "Got a feeling you'll need it before all this is over."

* * *

Daphne Greengrass was in a contemplative move. Her first term at Hogwarts had been fruitful. She had the full support of Slytherin House behind her and had proven herself to be mentally superior to the year group, thank you very much. She had beaten every Ravenclaw and that little weasel, Malfoy. She allowed herself a congratulatory smile. She traded it in for a small frown a few moments later.

Two people had been better.

Daphne didn't trust smart people, particularly not independent people she knew nothing about. She brushed her hair out of her eyes as she thought more about the pair.

Hermione Jean Granger was a Muggle-born..._non-magically raised_ student and was, in equal measure both extraordinary and sublime. She was most certainly a prodigy in magical theory, although only time would tell as to whether that translated into genius later on. She was insufferably brilliant in every way.

Harry James Potter was even worse. Never mind his marks, he had _power_ as well as intellect, along with fame and...strong rumour had it, wealth. Obviously raised away from both the latter two, going off his discomfort around the fan girls and his ratty home wear.

Hmm...possible, very possible.

If he was raised without the prejudices of most wizards, the houses were just names and colours to him. He had cordial relations with people in all three of the others already, and had most teachers, even the indomitable Snape it seemed, under his thumb.

Tempting, but disastrous if handled incorrectly.

Draco Malfoy had completely screwed up his, and likely every Slytherin males' chance of getting in with the boy. The pranks, the rudeness to the few close friends...foolish, very foolish. Perhaps he _had_ begged the hat, as the rumours said. Otherwise, the boy would have certainly gone to Hufflepuff for his loyalty and determination. The fact that he was a moron and he blindly followed his father merely increased her dislike of him.

No, no. If she was going to use...no, ally, this guy was going to be too clever to be used...with him, he needed an incentive, a better reason and a plan to involve him with.

Daphne wasn't as foolish as many witches and wizards were. She kept up with Muggle..._non-magical _affairs (honestly, the way her mother rammed that phrase down her throat) and she knew that their cameras were going to catch them one day. Even if they didn't, relations were going to have to change, as the Goblins sure as hell weren't trading with wizards as much as non-magics these days.

The Potters were proof of that. They were wealthy, not because they hoarded but because they _invested_ in the global economy the wizarding world lacked. They were popular in their time for giving away to the poor, to the needy and for helping spread education further with a few scholarships here and there.

Their son was set to become not just a wealthy heir one day, but also a powerful political animal. It helped that he would almost certainly have his family's good looks, brains and power too. He was already showing signs of all three. And yet he was cold too. He flinched from contact with humans...interestingly enough he was fine with the white owl, he had many people he knew but perhaps only five friends in the castle and, best of all, he hated the morons who wanted to be his girlfriend, his fanboy or his personal monkey butler.

She knew Voldemort probably would return. The fact that he had already attacked Gringotts and the school merely confirmed it. There was no room for neutrality this time, as she had a feeling that it was only going to end with him winning or his corpse being burnt.

She already knew that she wasn't going to be one of 'his'. There was no room for growth in a dictatorship and she had never been one for grovelling. To fight him, she needed The-Boy-Who-Lived, even as she knew that most of his legend was just that, made up. He was still _someone_, still powerful and still intelligent. He needed to be all of these things and more, because she suspected that one day he was going to have to take over from the old man as the leader of the 'light' side.

And he needed help.

Daphne finished her deliberations with a smirk. He was viable for a business deal, at the very least. She spotted two girls whispering over a child's book about the Boy-Who-Lived.

She rolled her eyes, '_Ergh...Humans.'_

To her mind, it didn't matter what the boy did, as long as the Ice Queen was three steps to the right of him and a credible power behind his throne.

* * *

Horace Slughorn had never been particularly helpful before and Albus wasn't in the mood to be gentle. As he tore the door off of its hinges with magic and stunned a shocked old man in the face, he reflected on the ways he could pry the memory out of his mind. First though, he would ask his old friend the old fashioned way. Failing that, he could always paralyse him before injecting truth serum.

Screw due process, the world was going to hell anyway.

"That's our man, sir?" a figure behind Albus said.

"Ah yes, an old colleague of mine. Bradley, get the men to give the house the once over. There's probably nothing here of note but we need to document this. If my friend here doesn't talk, we'll throw all of this at him, along with all the other creepy little things he's been doing since he retired," Albus said grimly.

He wasn't in the mood for sweet talk today.

"Ah, hello Horace," he said cheerfully, unsticking two sweets as the other old man squirmed slightly his seat. He was one of the few wizards from the 'old' generation that knew what the guns trained on his lower regions could do to him.

"Merlin's beard Albus, what is the meaning of all this?" Slughorn squeaked.

"You've been very naughty in the past few years, Horace. Breaking into people's homes, living in for a few weeks before moving on again? One would think that you were trying to hide from someone. You have no idea what a tedious task it was for these gentlemen to track you down. They are rather cross with you, you know," Albus said, almost chuckling in amusement as the Rakers pretended quite convincingly to glare angrily at the fat wizard.

"Alright, you have made your point,' his face was ashen as he spoke, "What do you want of me?"

"A memory and a number. How many Horcruxes do you suspect Tom Riddle made?" Albus said coldly, feeling anger and shame that a Hogwarts professor would EVER give a student this kind of knowledge without asking WHY they wished to know or give ethics on how to use knowledge.

"But...I don't know what you-" the denial broke off as Albus froze him and forcefully injected him with Veritaserum.

It was dangerous to take in this way, having been known to stop hearts before. But the information at stake was important and Slughorn had brought this on himself.

"The number of Horcruxes Tom Riddle was interested in was how many?"

"Six."

"With the seventh fragment within his body?"

"Yes."

There were a few dismayed sighs from the audience watching and Dumbledore rubbed his temples.

"Can you give me the memory of the incident you are referring too?"

"Yes," and Albus mentally dove into the lucid mind, extending his wand out to extract the proper memory, with not even a concern about trying to preserve Slughorn's privacy now.

"Is the memory I just forcibly extracted pertaining to the horcruxes of Lord Voldemort unaltered?"

"Yes."

"Very well. You may administer the antidote Bradley."

Horace slumped in his chair as it took effect. He knew he would be going to prison if this ever got out, and as it was, Albus wasn't going to be kind when he saw the memory.

"Albus...please. If you have any lingering favour towards me, please obliviate me of these events and let me live here in peace. I promise you, I bought this house myself. I was going to return here to retire fully when you gave up the chase."

The old man was begging now, pleading. The soldiers looked towards Dumbledore, not knowing exactly how much leeway any of them had to let the man go free.

Albus himself knew that Voldemort was going to kill Slughorn if he found out that he had talked, even under duress.

He glanced at Bradley, "Is the house clean?"

"Yes sir," Bradley said quietly.

Albus sighed heavily, relieved somewhat.

"Horace...we are _done_ today. You will only remember these last words of mine: _Stay away from Britain and stay away from Harry Potter._ Goodbye, my old friend. I'm sorry this had to end like this," Albus said, standing and then obliviating the meeting from the other man's mind.

"We are done here gentlemen. I would ask you all to tell the others that we have a huge task ahead of us. Also..." he considered for a moment.

"Tell them that The Order of the Phoenix is being assembled as we speak. We will seek out these dark objects and send them all, and their creator with them, back into the shadows from whence they came!"

...

**Guest reviewer: Whilst no one doubts that Hermione is the smartest witch of her age, Harry is a powerful wizard in every sense, and a smart one too. He teaches canon Ronald Weasley (and even the terminally idiotic film version) how to do a patronus within a few weeks. I'm ramping up his intelligence (there is a reason for it coming up shortly) but he was always naturally curious and talented, why then should he not read an awful lot, particularly as he now has the opportunity to do so freely? Harry's still not the smartest (not even Hermione is now there are a ton of adults here) and he's still a child, as we'll see in later chapters. Thanks for the review.**


	23. Chapter 23: Planning ahead

**AEU Chapter 23**

"This is an outage!"

"Who do they think they are?"

"A perfect disgrace!"

"How dare they presume-?"

"SILENCE!"

Cornelius spared a grateful smile to the Chief Warlock's box before he concentrated on the Wizengamot once more. They had not taken his announcement of the non-magicals' ultimatum well...

The Minister sighed as another round of questions was brought forth, exactly the same as the last set.

"Can they do this?"

"Can we obliviate this away?"

"How could you have let this happen Fudge?"

Ah there it was. The blaming, the accusations. The curse of being the figurehead of a government dealing with the aftermath of the imbecilic former government was that many former Ministry officers were now on the Wizengamot. And hang Merlin if they weren't willing to throw the recovery movement under a rampaging Hippogriff to save their own skins.

The trouble was, as far as Cornelius could see, was that the government had a point. Their world was now a technological wonderland but it was apparently running out of fuel for its engines. With their countries now at peace (relatively speaking), now was the perfect time to reveal themselves and help fix the real world. After all, the magical population would die along with the rest if the environment were to fail, or a nuclear war were to begin. Minister Fudge was coming to the rapid conclusion that wizards were hiding now because that was the easier, but immoral choice. It was time to remind them that the old ways were done with and a new age was coming, with or without their approval.

"The Goblin Covenant has agreed to their terms," he said, causing silence to rush through the room.

If the Goblins were to come out of hiding, there would be no way wizards could remain incognito. And the court held no authority over the Covenant to order them to stay away.

"What about the Enlightened?" Madam Longbottom said quietly from her chair.

A frigid atmosphere was added to the court along with the deathly silence. Faces already pale by the candle light went white as the Minister slumped in his position. Very few people outside of the hall knew what the word meant but to those gathered here, it was one of the most dangerous words to speak.

"...They have indicated nothing. They have not appeared. They have not spoken to me or anyone in the Ministry that I know of," at this Cornelius quickly looked round hopefully.

Dumbledore shook his head. He had not been contacted either.

The Minister sighed but continued, "The fact remains that EVERY nation on Earth has masses of information on every wizarding settlement on the planet. If they want to expose us they can do so. And since the Enlightened haven't stepped in yet..."

The assembled witches and wizards got his meaning. If even the guardians of the Secret itself were giving it up as a hopeless cause, they had no remaining choice but acceptance.

Cornelius left them to their inevitable and inevitable task of _how_ to sign away their independence. As head of the government, he could only address the court. If a Minister ever took it over, the whole country would descended into a tyrannical dictatorship. He had other things on his mind, such as how to break the news to the public.

The surprise and sudden retirement of Patroclus Powersnatcht from editor of the Prophet had really spelled the end for any hushing up of these events. If and when the news broke about this deal, the whole wizarding world would know soon enough.

Fudge was ready to fight Voldemort but wondered exactly how far the government were going to give them leeway.

Would the Ministry be reformed under Parliament?

He supposed something like that had to happen. They were all entitled to a vote as British citizens, along with the dubious honour of taxes and laws. Fudge cringed, knowing how many human rights violations various other ministries had broken through the years. Fortunately his head would not be on the block, but many others would be.

There were murmurs of dissenters amongst their own in the ICW. Many were starting to move towards the absent Dark Lord's banner, as if HE even had the power to fight six billion people and all their weapons. No doubt they could try, yet the idea that the _Muggles_ were pressing for this meant they _had_ figured out a way of negating their magical advantage in some way. Or that the Goblins were helping...or that the Enlightenment were.

'_Don't go there Cornelius,_' his inner mind ventured fearfully.

The Canadian Ministry was looking to repel all borders, with France and Germany both allying quickly with them. The ICW was stricken as its members formed into three sides, the dissenters, the unificationists and the isolationists. Britain was going to be a target for each one, as any deal they made with the non-magicals was going to screw over at least two of the parties. As one of the largest and most powerful magical communities in their world (and the best connected), his and Dumbledore's word carried weight and bite.

Back within the Wizengamot chamber, some more in the know about the non-magical world were beginning think and argue optimistically. On their own, the Muggles had reached Luna, the furthest galaxies had been observed, they had seen back into the dawn of time, the atom had been split and fused...the list went on. Together, what could the future hold for humanity with the mixing of technology and magic?

Magic was the key to unlocking cheap and renewable energy. Healing for both peoples would greatly increase in effectiveness, with perhaps all diseases becoming extinct within decades. The wizarding world would come under _much_ fairer laws and the other races of beings, as evidenced by the Goblin acceptance, were already negotiating their own deals with humanity. Global trade would _triple_ overnight.

It would be a great world...one day. The problem was that in the next few years, all who opposed change were going to fight it with force.

The war, if there was one, would be short and bloody...but all sides feared the end result: magical terrorism. Muggle bombs paired with magical teleportation would wreak havoc across the land. Polyjuice potion and apparition, along with the imperious curse, can be defeated by vigilance and wards. The goblins were already at work, updating public buildings (for mundane and magical people's both) whilst the Ministry was prepping every new employee whom had not lived through the terror years with how to combat the basic ploys of the Death Eaters.

Still...regardless of how the wizards were going to play it, the goblins were fully prepared to reveal themselves to the larger world, with the Centaurs and Merfolk not far behind. They had heard of human conservation efforts and wanted to not only safe guard their homes but help Mother Nature too. They had too much to gain to ignore the opportunity. Fudge just wanted to know how the hell those negotiations were happening and going so smoothly, particularly with the centaurs and Merpeople, whom didn't even speak human languages.

Fudge gulped down more whiskey. There was another force at work here. The Enlightened had been too quiet even as all they had guarded against these past centuries was threatening to be torn down. Why now did they fall silent? What were they, of all people, afraid of?

_'Dammit, what am I going to do?'_

* * *

The headmaster's office was fairly easy to find again but Harry was ill prepared for the site that awaited him at the entranceway. Professor McGonagall had taken exception to a Griffin statue that was lolling about in an archway.

"I know I don't have an appointment but I need to go through," she insisted curtly.

"Password," the Griffin said with a mischievous grin.

"Oh for heavens..." The witch mumbled something to the Griffin.

"Hmm...no, sorry. That wasn't quite loud enough."

The teacher tried again, Harry still couldn't quite make it out and he paced a little closer.

"Come on, old girl, LOUDER!"

"GOODBYE YELLOW BRICK ROAD!" McGonagall bellowed.

She looked mortified when she spotted Harry, who was also looking fairly shell-shocked.

"Correct," the statue said with a snigger, before gleefully leaping away.

"Well, come along Mr Potter, if you _are_ here to see the headmaster and not to-"

"Yes Professor," Harry said quickly, marching up the stairs.

* * *

Dumbledore greeted both with far too much of a twinkle in his eye to be coincidental.

McGonagall had never thought she would miss the sweet passwords, but Albus' new found interest in music other than the chamber variety were being felt by everyone. That reminded her, Flitwick had caught Snape having to sing the last password in a very high voice, she really must ask for that memory.

"It is good you are both here actually. Please do be careful of the suspiciously long pointy thing, Harry, it is an exceptionally good insect zapper but it has the unfortunate tendency of...ah, well, let's not worry about that. Now...may I interest either of you in a cucumber sandwich? No? Very well," Headmaster Dumbledore bade both of them to seats.

To Harry, though Dumbledore appeared to be his normal self, his face was deeply lined and his shoulders drooped with exhaustion.

"Now, was there something you wished to ask me Professor, before I get on with our business?" he asked his deputy, who at this moment looked as if she would quite like the brain the impudent Griffin downstairs.

"I was going to review schedules for the summer term with you but we can do that later. Do you wish me to stay for your meeting with Mr Potter?" she answered and then asked.

"If Harry is agreeable, I should like your input, yes."

"I'm fine with that sir."

"Very good," Dumbledore said before bringing his fingers together in a crooked triangle, a shape Harry recognised when Hermione was in her pondering mode.

"After reviewing and receiving information from Madam Pomfrey and several others, we have come to the conclusion that Harry's living arrangements are...hmm, shall we say, abysmal. Quite what action we can take against them, I am unsure but I must again offer my unreserved apology for the ten rough years you've endured at Privet Dive, Harry. My mistakes are, I have found, fewer than most but far more disastrous when they do happen." Dumbledore's light seemed to have gone out as he spoke.

"As your only reason to live there, the blood wards that protect you, are now dying, you must come to a decision on what you wish to do over summer," Dumbledore said, sending Harry into a ponderous mood of his own

He was never going back to the Dursleys.

He was **NEVER** going back to the Dursleys.

That in itself was momentous, but the problems it caused were huge and unending.

Where in the world was he going to stay?

Who could he find to take in an emotionally damaged child with magical abilities, a fortune buried deep underground and a cult following to boot?

_'Damn, I don't even know if I can live with adults again. I've never really had a good relationship with one, save for the teachers here. Lupin I know nothing about, save for the fact that he was friends with dad, and his werewolf form would certainly cause difficulties. I doubt I could be emancipated at eleven years of age, no matter who the hell I was.'_

_'Crap...I don't know what to do!' _

Harry's thoughts whirled at the implications and the difficulties.

"Have you got any ideas as to who can take me in? I assume I can't be emancipated yet..." he asked the headmaster, who leaned back in his chair, considering the options.

The Weasley family was no choice at all, at least, not for all summer. Dumbledore supposed that the place was nice enough and Harry was friends with every Weasley in the school however, Molly Weasley was a very...compassionate mother. Whilst Harry certainly needed a parental figure, he wouldn't bond with someone so overbearing, having grown up learning to be independent and competent in looking after himself already.

He didn't know much about the Grangers except that the family was currently employed in the dentistry profession. For a non-magical family, their records were surprisingly well protected and his authority (well, as headmaster anyway) granted him little more than that. The parents took the magic of their daughter _very _well his deputy reported, all things considered...and the girl herself was a credit to the school.

Albus wasn't sure whether they would accept Harry over the summer, but it couldn't hurt to ask if they were willing to take him for a week or two. The whole summer however, would be a bit much...they could ask Miss Granger later about what she thought about the whole thing.

Hogwarts was an option, but again, not for the whole summer. The castle was empty over the break except for floods of research teams and, Dumbledore suspected this year, a whole host of government types gathering information for the Defence ministry, the Education ministry, etcetera, etcetera...

In the end, there weren't a whole lot of options for Harry for a permanent residence, as Dumbledore pointed out each and every one had problems with that arrangement. Harry himself supposed he could always 'disappear' for six weeks before miraculously showing up at the train station.

_'Might even give me a chance to get everything sorted on my list,'_ he thought.

Harry had a list in his head in which he recorded everything he wanted to do over the summer. So far, he had gotten into the hundreds.

"We do have time to think this through Harry, although I must admit myself to be fully flummoxed as to what to do," the headmaster said apologetically after reviewing half a dozen options.

Harry nodded sadly, shamefaced by the difficulties he was causing. The story of his life seemed to be the rejection and abandonment of him. Who was he to change it now?

* * *

After he had left, Minerva rounded on the old man, "Albus, we simply _must_ find that boy a home. We can't leave him out in the cold again."

He sighed deeply. Lupin was still missing and his only hope now was that he turned up at the trial in a few weeks. Cornelius wasn't going to piss on racial laws NOW if he wanted to keep his position. This crisis with the non-magical world all at the same time was fraying everyone's tempers. A whisper of argument in private now would be disastrous for the government as a whole.

"I think Minerva, that barring an act of God or something to that nature, we are in for a few tough months."

Silence reigned for a while in the office, only the occasional tick of a silvery object broke its grasp on the room. Finally, McGonagall shook herself out of her thoughts.

"How did your trip go?"

"Hm...not so bad, not so good. Horace was as charming as ever and we found out Voldemort has a suspected six Horcruxes dotted around Great Britain. Thankfully for us, he never visited other countries long enough for him to put defences round the objects that would be of an acceptable strength to him. Thus, we know he worked within our borders. As to the precise locations, that is going to take every ounce of skill we have to figure that out," the Headmaster said.

McGonagall was wondering exactly how you were supposed to track down six items hidden by _Voldemort himself_.

"We have quite a task ahead of us," Dumbledore said gravely. "Now, Minerva, let us fix the timetables for the summer term. Cornelius has left me worried over international affairs and I need the evening free to think things through with him."

* * *

Harry was walking away from the office feeling altogether fairly dejected and sorry for himself, which was a fairly new experience for him.

Now he knew there was a better life for himself at Hogwarts, anything else didn't really cut it. At that moment, he felt like crushing something and then setting fire to it.

"Harry Potter?"

_'Some rat's gonna die today...'_ He thought as he turned round savagely.

Daphne recoiled slightly as she read the emotions showing through on his face. He had just been put down hard by something and now really wasn't the best time for introductions. However, somehow he extraordinarily wiped all emotion from his face when he noted that he didn't recognise her.

His brow twitched slightly as if he was in deep thought before he said, "Daphne Greengrass?"

She was surprised he even remembered that. The only time he would have seen her name in relation to her race would have been at the sorting feast over _five months ago_. Her suspicions about his memory seemed to be founded by that greeting.

"Yes that's right Mr Potter. Good afternoon," she said coolly.

His right eye flickered in a wince, which she translated to mean irritation, irritation that she had seen him in an emotionally comprised state.

"I presume by the fact that you have been following me for the last week and a half means that you have some reason to be talking to me now?" Harry replied neutrally, knowing full well that she would kick herself for being spotted so easily.

"What gave me away?"

"When you started anticipating where I was going to go and you adjusted your study program to end just as mine began, so you could pack away and examine me whilst you did so, without being so obvious as to study at the same time as me. To be fair to yourself, you must be at least the best Slytherin in your year. You are at least capable of planning ahead. What do you want?"

Harry nearly cracked a smile as the girl's composure dropped considerably when he started explaining. All the training and planning in the world doesn't stop a child from emoting when their secrets are thrown out.

Long hours of avoiding Dudley had given Harry both a keen eye and a good ear; his 'fan club' had forced him to gain an excellent knowledge of Hogwarts and its secret ways. The girl was good, but lacked the silent tread and casual eye true pursuers needed. Her face had gone through irritation at being caught, respect at his abilities before she cracked a Cheshire cat smile at him.

"Brilliant, you'll do wonderfully."

"Wonderfully?"

"Yes, you're a rather valuable person you know."

"I'm just another first year student," Harry said innocently.

"Hmm," said the girl, not looking very convinced, "Said first year has, so far, become the youngest Seeker in a century, somehow neutered Professor Snape, fought Lord Voldemort and has had two meetings with the headmaster that I know about. So you'll forgive me if I am unconvinced of your normalcy."

She motioned to a classroom Harry hoped she had already checked to be empty.

"Now then, you've clearly demonstrated you intelligence and I assume you stole the end of term assessment marks for the whole year, just as I did, so you know I am no slouch either."

He nodded to indicate it was so. Hermione was never going to tell him her mark and he needed to compare with everyone else. The fastest way of doing that was to break into her office, with aid from the Weasley twins, and take a look himself.

"Right well, I'm sure you have realised exactly how important you are going to be when you leave Hogwarts. You have fame, wealth and possible even a political seat if you want it."

"Yes, I know..." he started coolly. Internally he was reeling from the information she gave him in a completely earnest manner.

_'Christ...I didn't think that I was all that wealthy._ _Well off? Yes._ _Rich man money bags? No. And hell...I have a seat on the Wizengamot too? Damn it. Do I really want to write even more than I already do? Or sit in boring meetings?'_

Harry realised he would have to play along for now.

"Get to your point," he said.

"My point is that you could build up a network in school, to give you a set of allies when you leave. Even if you don't want to be in power, you aren't going to be left alone unless you make friends with those who are or who want to."

"And you have a list of people that are already either well connected or showing signs of promise?"

"Yes."

Harry digested the information for a second. He had no real plans on what to do after Hogwarts, as he wasn't sure whether Voldemort would still be after him...or even if Wizards were still secret by then. He had seen the street cameras going up all over Surrey in response to IRA and other groups' threats. He knew that contact would happen eventually even without that, especially with a new war brewing on the horizon.

If Voldemort was coming to get him, he had to try and bring destruction down upon all of his plans and allies first. Like it or not, he was going to have to play politician. That didn't mean he was going to lie down and let the girl walk over him though.

"Alright...what do you want?"

Daphne had made up a list in her head of what she wanted, rated in increasing orders of demand, depending on how he took the offer.

"Well, I'm already well on my way to owning Slytherin. Malfoy just doesn't cut it and Nott isn't popular enough. Within a few years, I should have them all round my finger. You have Gryffindor fully in love with you so I suggest we both decide to split the other two houses between us, we should be able to get in with the Ravens and the 'puffs."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "How did you get first and second years to follow you, and how are you going to convince older years? What does _owning_ a House even mean?"

"I have my methods."

_'Damn,'_ Harry thought. _'Be careful around this one'._

"How do you suppose we ingratiate ourselves into two more houses?"

"You have an easy way: Quidditch. Cedric Diggory is one of the more popular and clever boys in Hufflepuff and coincidentally, a little birdie told me he is set to become captain next year. For now, he is the Seeker on their team.

Ravenclaw will be more difficult, but you are already on speaking terms with Penny Clearwater, and you and Hermione Granger are approved of by most of them. I know some people already, and can always join in with your study group to cement us with them."

Harry was in a bit of a quandary. He didn't like manipulating people, as he himself was the product of ten years of thoughtless manipulations. He did like the Ravens though, and was probably going to be friends with most of them anyway. It was the Hufflepuffs who worried him. If you pissed one off, the whole cete would leap on top of you, as even the Weasley twins had discovered.

"Fine...but I think we should just make friends for now. Slytherin is the only house you can get away with toying with at the moment."

"I agree."

Harry tilted his head slightly. "You still haven't answered my question. What do you _want_?"

Harry was sure it would be money. Money and probably even more money. Greengrass was clearly clever enough to get it if she wanted it.

"Several things, but for now, I want to be seen with you and study with you."

"Why?"

"It'll give me more sway with the other houses if I'm seen with you and not with Slytherin. My house won't bother us, most of them are too dumb to notice any way."

"And what's the most demanding thing on your list?" Harry asked with a sigh.

Daphne looked astonished for a moment.

"What? You didn't make a list of all your demands on it?"

"No...I did, but how did you know?"

"You really, really shouldn't have written these down," Harry said before producing a crumpled sheet of parchment from his robe.

'_Oh no..._'

"Wait...that was in-"

"The Slytherin Quarters? Hardly a fortress is it? No...when I-excuse me, when _we_ were done going through McGonagall's stuff, we decided to have a quick peak into your Common Room. Oh by the way, don't sit on the wingback chair in front of the fire..."

Daphne bit back her annoyance and anger at the boy for being so insufferably good at this negotiation thing.

"Well, okay, I know the top one seems a bit steep but..."

"A bit steep? Please explain how you think that THAT is a little steep."

"Listen, my family is going to support this one hundred percent, but we aren't THAT powerful or wealthy. We are up and coming yes, but that's because of my father's business sense and my mother's friendship with a few Goblin gold lenders. I just want in on that Muggle world businesses that your family has invested in."

"Hmm, we'll see what happens with that. As I understand it, those shares and most of the money is in trust until I'm 17."

Harry didn't actually know, as the meeting at Gringotts had merely informed him about his own vault and the fact that more existed waiting for him. His bank statements covered only his vault. He was going to have to bluff again until he found out more...and he was determined to find out more about this mysterious 'wealth' this summer if he could.

"Precisely, which is why it's at the top of the list. My less demanding stuff is at the bottom. I want to support you monetarily if you want it or need it. You'd be surprised how far a good bribe or a small wager will get you."

Both children's eyes locked onto each other's, as if that would allow the other to discern their inmost thoughts. Harry's mental gears were whirring as they had never done before, as he tried to replicate Ron's chess thought process or Hermione's thoroughness.

"Very well Miss Greengrass. Let's do business," Harry said with a grin.

"Oh, I should think this will be profitable for both of us," the Slytherin said happily.

'_No doubt,_' she afterthought, '_I imagine we'll either end up killing each other or-_'

"Oh just one thing, partner," Harry said, interrupting her thought. "Don't let anyone trick you with this again."

And he dropped the empty piece of apparel to the floor before walking off.

She didn't know how, when or where, but he was going to pay for that.


	24. Chapter 24: The great beyond

**AEU Chapter 24**

"As we have a full Moon tonight, we shall be going over our notes and our readings of its important effects on magic and on the world. Adjust your telescopes to focus fully on the Moon and zoom in until it just about fills the entirety of your vision. Then come back to the middle," Professor Sinistra instructed the class.

The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws moved to obey the teacher's instructions.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were adjusting their telescopes to the great white orb in the sky and chatting quietly as they did so. All three students had, after accepting the unorthodox sleeping schedule, rather taken to Astronomy class. It was incredibly relaxing and peaceful, as the whole castle was silent apart from a few murmurs between the groups at the top of the tower.

The grounds below were spread out before them, enshrouded in a late night mist that billowed up from the Black Lake. Hagrid's house was only identifiable because of the trails of smoke his chimney left, and the cherry red light from his windows beaming through the mist.

Harry looked up at the starry night sky when he was done.

He had never really seen the stars before Hogwarts in such numbers or in as many varieties. Away from the synthetic glow of Muggle settlements, the wonders of the universe were revealed in full.

"Now class, who can remember the importance of the Earth's moon, Luna?" The professor asked in a whisper.

The class had found Professor Sinistra to be a lover of whispering and quietness. She was not so unreasonable as to fire hexes at the students when they were loud, like the demon librarian downstairs, but any who raised their voices in her lessons did so at their peril.

"Please Professor, the Moon itself does not affect potions, either whilst brewing or consuming, but when preparing and picking certain ingredients, the phase of the Moon affects the potency of the effect of the ingredient. This is why some plants cannot be grown in a greenhouse but have to be grown outside or in tubs, so that they can receive the full Luna rays as they are harvested," Neville said first before Hermione could.

Whilst he was still a liability in the potions lab, he was still far and away the best in Herbology.

"Yes Mr Longbottom, ten points to Gryffindor," Sinistra said, "Whilst almost all potions are unaffected by the Moon in any way, some particularly large vats of solutions or potions that take a long time to brew are indeed subtly influenced by Luna, though nowhere near as much as say, Sol, our sun."

The class nodded.

* * *

In terms of celestial mechanics in reference to magic, stars were strong influences on creatures and plants, whilst bodies that reflected their power were second to them. Other bodies, such as comets, could have adverse and unforeseen effects on any number of things, whilst the planets themselves only really influenced Divination, and then only minutely. The Sun however, was the only star close enough to them that could exert its influence. The others were far too far away to even set their magical detectors off.

Wizard astronomy ended at the Solar System, because there was little beyond that which could even slightly matter, save for when entire galaxies collided, sending streaks of magic all over the cosmos.

Astronomy was taught for the first five years because it affected most of their other subjects, especially the ones they could choose to take in third year.

Many animals were affected by the stars and Moon, Divination had a whole school of thought on how to stop or aid the magical inputs of the stars in relations to prophecies. It was rare when they helped though, as signals from even the Sun were eight minutes out of date, adversely throwing off the balance of an already delicate branch of magic.

The Zodiac were, as the Centaurs were fond of saying, 'Human nonsense'.

Professor Sinistra had shown them all a projection of the night sky with the Zodiac lines drawn in, before showing the class a showing of how the magical energy from the Sun dissipated as it moved towards Earth. By the time it reached the planet, it was not one eight of its strength. She then showed the power coming at them from the nearest star in one of the constellations. Its energy was less than a billionth of what the Sun's was when it hit Earth. The instruments they had could go no lower than that and the class was left in no doubt that the effects coming from others stars were minimal at best.

* * *

All this Harry had learnt over the past few months, and yet above all, the subject was almost designed to show how little everyone knew.

No one knew if magic even worked on other planets or if there was life out there. Because of the nonmagical element of the subject, Muggles and wizards intertwined with each other over it.

The non-magical world had excelled at looking further and reaching back, even putting a few people on the Moon at one point. In fact, the ICW called an inquiry to make sure that the Muggles hadn't had magical aid in helping them get into space. The fact that they had done it on their own had sent shock waves round the Wizarding world.

For the first time, the 'Muggles' had done something truly astonishing and fully beyond what any wizard thought possible. In the years since, prejudices had declined sharply, with only hard-core purists (inbred Pure-bloods) keeping to the old thoughts. Voldemort had only quickened the process that already was happening. Now magical users were starting slowly, very, very slowly, to take further interest in what the non-magicals were doing, with each generation increased in knowledge, due to the rising ratio of Muggle-borns being born as the human population increased.

Harry always became this hideously optimistic when simply gazing up at the heavens. It was not a sight that bred narrow mindedness or depression, but hope and wonder.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione said, sat to his side.

"I think that doesn't do 'it' justice, but you're right. It's awe-inspiring, terrifying, the stuff from which dreams are made, the endless ocean on which we all sail..." Harry tailed off as Ron started sniggering.

"You really do know how to lay it on thick Potter," he said between his snorts.

"Laugh it up, you soulless prat," Harry said back, still looking into the sky.

He didn't read much poetry, but enjoyed Hermione reading it aloud.

She was at this moment smiling at her two friends, one a wondering stargazer moved to poetry and the other a giggling pragmatic with a perfectly understandable humourist attitude to the former.

_'God, the universe was weird,_' she thought.

"Hermione," Harry whispered, his eyes now widening with pupils expanding.

He nudged her and indicated wordlessly. She cast around confused for a second before she saw it too. The Milky Way was streaming out above them, filling perhaps a quarter of the sky. The teacher was silently beaming a sight she surely must have seen dozens of times and yet never tired of.

Hermione turned back to look once more at her galaxy, her _home_.

The milky stain was really billions of stars coalesced together by her inferior eyes, combined with the distances involved.

She wasn't complaining just this once however.

Harry nudged her side again and pointed. They were not alone in admiring the sky at night.

A few dozen groups of specks could be seen at the forest's edge. From their shape and dark colour, they could only be the Centaurs, here to observe one of the greatest see able sights from Earth.

_'Magic,'_ she thought.

Both groups remained there for some time, as the world kept on spinning and the stars kept on shining.

* * *

Fudge was nervous just before the conference HE had called.

The entirety of the ICW was out there waiting for Dumbledore, he who had broken the news of Voldemort's discovery to their world, to now implore that world to stay together. The most famous and celebrated wizards of every country were out there right now, waiting for him...and possibly planning a war of their own.

Old rivalries and new threats were threatening to tear the confederation apart when they needed to be united the most. They NEEDED to talk with the non-magicals together, or their side was not going to look as strong as the non-magical world's united front in this matter.

He had seen and partly written the speech he and Dumbledore had spent many hours obsessing over. Fudge was still afraid that it wouldn't be enough, that these people would forget their innocent populations and start fighting amongst themselves. Whilst the ICW was made up entirely of people whose personal backgrounds generally proclaimed '_Saved the world_', many had individual national goals in mind front and foremost rather than the wellbeing of all.

"Ah, Dumbledore, are you ready? They're all waiting out there," he said, relieved when the Headmaster finally entered the room.

"Not this time, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, waiting a few moments before that sunk in with the Minister.

Said Minister was shaking in his seat, suddenly even more afraid than before. He had been banking on Dumbledore to convince the rest of the seriousness of the situation. Without him, who could convince all those old heroes to take action?

"This is your moment, Minister," the old man said quietly. "Out there are a collection of extremely frightened people, just as you yourself are. They need, and you need, to believe in yourselves that you can do this without a doddering old fool helping you out."

Fudge was protesting against the Headmaster's reasoning before he spoke again.

"Listen, I can't go on forever, and like it or not, whether you all believe otherwise or not, I am just an old teacher that has a few other roles. I am not the 'Leader of the Light' as people say. The 'Light' doesn't exist. There are only choices to be made. You have to go out there and make them see reason, but more than that, you have to make them believe that they can solve their problems by working together, and not just by getting one wizard to do everything for them. You don't need to be an 'all-powerful' wizard to lead well or to make the right decision. Our abilities define us rather less than our choices do."

Cornelius stared at him for a second. He was feeling...he didn't know what. Honoured? _Pleased_ that he was going to be in the limelight? Fear clutched at his chest through his fingers, and he could do nothing but stammer for several moments.

"But...I...I...I'm not good enough...not smart enough..." he pleaded to Dumbledore.

"You think that now, but you will surprise yourself over the next few weeks, I think."

Cornelius Fudge began pacing around in a daze. The world truly was going mad if he was all that stood between peace and chaos. Anger and annoyance welled up within him against the old man for putting him in this position. How dare he jest so lowly with _his_ life? With everyone else's lives?

Fudge wheeled around and snapped, "Do you have my speech?"

"Right here, Minister. Good luck," Dumbledore said, offering the manuscript up as it was snatched away.

"Right then..." Fudge said as he started storming down the passage.

He stopped suddenly and turned around, suddenly feeling so incredibly sorry for the lone, tall silhouette that represented his first and greatest mentor.

The old man smiled reassuringly and gestured him on.

Fudge placed his hat more firmly down on his head and left Dumbledore behind.

_'I will do this...'_

Dumbledore watched the retreating figure. It was going to be the end of an era, regardless of how well the man did. But Dumbledore knew that it was time for him, if not to leave the ICW and the Wizengamot, to at least stop carrying the world on his shoulders.

It was time for them to stand together, or fade away.

* * *

Fudge went out that day, for his country, his people and for the man who had pushed him onwards. His speech, when it came, was his finest hour and the strongest of his career.

When the time came, they would all be there together.

With their united strength.


	25. Chapter 25: Trials and Treasure

**AEU Chapter 25**

It had been, Harry thought, a most frantic time for everyone.

Apart from the final exam and Quidditch match preparations, Harry had also been trying hard to figure out just how the Wizarding world worked. Their trial process was considerably shorter than the nonmagical way, owing to the use of those pensieve things and truth serums being used to ensure that what they heard was the truth; though there were apparently ways of falsifying _everything, _this was in practice so difficult that getting caught was a guarantee.

The Law as it stood was tiered, with the most major offences were murder and the usual stuff, but just below that was the statute for secrecy, which was very carefully policed by all ministries. Punishments included fines, community service, prison, Azkaban and something called the Veil, which hadn't been used in two centuries.

Most actual crimes Harry recognised from his old life didn't appear to be issues in this world. Assault and rape were difficult to accomplish due to the victim almost always using accidental/instinctual magic under those sorts of situations, which also accounted for the low death and injury rates due to accidents of a nonmagical nature themselves. Burglary was rare as money was quite unnecessary for much of a daily wizard's use, and at any rate homes and objects were defended against that sort of thing. Bank robbery was, of course, laughable and the in-joke at Gringotts was that if one _could_ break into their bank, they would be so talented that they would never need to.

As for the media, The Daily Prophet, which today headlined the Minister's "strongest speech to date," calling for unity amongst wizards in the face of adversity, seemed to be the only mainstream newspaper.

_'That, if controlled properly, could be very destructive in the right hands,'_ Harry thought.

* * *

Quidditch was still at the forefront of the school's collective mind, as Slytherin had never been side-lined by another team since the departure of the legendary Charlie Weasley. Harry was under quite a bit of pressure as it was, being Hermione Granger's friend at the start of exam month tended to do that to a person. It was a tossup as to who was more demanding to Harry: his friend or Captain Wood, who was still working the team to the bone even after their perfect season. It wasn't a case of how many points Gryffindor needed, they just needed to win.

Slytherin wasn't even being contained by Snape or Greengrass in their attempts to cripple a few team members before the big game. As such, Fred, George and for some reason Peeves had effectively declared war back, and went on a pranking spree that rocked the foundations of the castle.

Everyone on the team was very tense, as few had dared to dream of the gleaming Quidditch cup since the Slytherin team had become so dominant. Harry was beginning to have nightmares again, this time about falling or failing to win. He cared about the sport too much to try and concentrate on something else the few days left before the match.

* * *

Finally the day came and the match was set.

Harry looked around the pitch, bathed in sunshine.

"Damn Oliver, you better win the toss for the goalposts or you're going to have the sun in your eyes for the entire game," he warned the burly Keeper, who marched forward to shake hands with the Hufflepuff captain.

Their team was quite unremarkable, save for a very talented Seeker called Diggory. Harry would have to watch him closely. From what he knew, the lad was friendly and fair minded, but being fifty feet up in the air did funny things to people's priorities.

The match was fairly lacklustre for the spectators for the first thirty minutes with the Gryffindor side was clearly superior to the opposing chasers. Lee Jordan was even starting to wander a bit in the commentary box, before Diggory dived down fast. Harry panicked for a second whilst shooting after him, he couldn't even see the...wait, there it was. The Snitch was evading the efforts of the boy in front, spinning around and flying upwards again, causing both players to swerve in chase, almost colliding together as they did so.

"Alright there, Harry?" The boy shouted towards him in a calm but loud voice.

Knowing the other Seeker was probably trying to unnerve him, Harry answered as coolly as he could, "Oh, not so bad. I say, the flowers are coming out beautifully aren't they?"

Harry flew forwards as Cedric Diggory blinked when the Sun shone through a cloud.

This Snitch was being difficult today, but Harry would not be denied. He caught the Snitch as it flew through one of the scoring hoops, narrowly avoiding decapitation as he did so.

"YES!" Harry shouted as Wood flew into him in tears, the rest of the team following close behind.

Slowly, they descended into the huge crowd of congratulating fans that carried them across to where Dumbledore stood in the stands, holding the huge gleaming silver cup that had been in the icy lair of Snape for many a year, the cup his own farther had won more than once in his time at Hogwarts.

As he lifted the cup above his head, Harry thought that this day was the happiest of his life.

* * *

"Oh come on, Hermione!" Harry pleaded later on that day, "The party's in full swing and the History revision can wait."

"Harry, the exam is in A WEEK! We have to go over everything again," she said disbelievingly, not quite understanding how a party can last until three in the afternoon without people getting bored.

"Hermione, relax," Ron said from his chair.

He was simultaneously eating, beaming and talking, which he had been doing for some time now.

The boy didn't seem to require oxygen to function.

She still didn't look convinced but Harry catching her stressing arms stopped her short.

"Please enjoy yourself today," he said, just loud enough to be heard over the general rabble in the Common Room, "You are going to do well-"

"But what if I don't? What if I-"

"Hermione, you are the best student in the year and probably the best in second year too. You wouldn't fail this exam even if you did it blindfold. What are you trying to prove?" Harry stated.

Hermione was quiet for a while but she did put down her book and joined the party, which Harry counted as a win in his head.

* * *

Harry meanwhile, had gone in search of Cedric, who had been the best challenges so far in his Quidditch matches. The Hufflepuff rooms were near the kitchen but Harry thought it more than likely he was outside somewhere.

He was in fact, smelling the roses.

"Harry?" the boy said when he found him.

"Hi Cedric. Thanks for the game," Harry said.

"Bit of a tricky snitch wasn't it?" The older boy said, smiling.

"Yeah, but I've seen worse."

The boy's chattered on about Quidditch games lost and won for a while before they headed back to their respective rooms.

Harry quite liked Cedric, who could have been in Ravenclaw if his marks were anything to go by. The fact that he was in with the badgers spoke volumes about his loyalty to his friends and loved ones.

Harry was quite ready to be his friend.

* * *

The exams came and went, with Hermione stressing quite a bit throughout the three week period, causing a number of headaches for everyone else. She aided everyone though and that endeared her to the rest.

Harry was only concerned about the DADA exam, as they had been on substitute classes for months now as the Headmaster searched for another teacher. Flitwick was superb at the practice side of things and fortunately, Quirrell had done an adequate job of teaching the theory earlier in the year. The higher years, those that did actually REALLY important exams, had a mixture of Flitwick, Snape and a few instructors from the Hit Wizard Squad. They were the apparent special forces/elite units in the Ministry, whilst the Aurors were the investigative police force and crime fighters, and were, in the last war, the Dark wizard hunters as a matter of default, as pretty much every crime of note was committed at the hands of one of Voldemort's people.

Their results would be given out on the last day of term, which made Ron groan in particular, thinking of those few weeks of living with the panicking Hermione. Harry had ingeniously gotten her to focus on what they already knew of second year whilst they waited for the marks. All three were cautious of the Transfiguration class next year but were looking forward to learning more powerful spells, and in particular, having a better defence teacher.

* * *

What was supposed to be a fairly enjoyable and relaxing few weeks in the sun at the end of term was shattered by the looming date of Sirius Black's trial, which had the media in a frenzy and Harry worried about attending. He knew he _had_ to go and look at the man, to see justice done and learn of why he did what he did. But that didn't mean he wanted to hear the demented ravings of a madman, a follower of Voldemort, or to hear in detail of how his parents and more than a dozen other people died.

He had some good news though; the Weasleys and the Grangers had both invited him to stay with them for a week or more, which should be enough for Dumbledore to figure out where to put him for the last two weeks before school started again. He could always stay at the Leaky Caldron.

Dumbledore had given both he and his friends leave for the trial, so all three went with him and both Professor McGonagall and Snape to the Ministry, where the trial would be held. The courtroom was full to the brim: the Minister, Madam Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt being amongst the few people Harry recognised.

The accused was brought in by six guards in heavy chains, along with two nasty looking creatures that suddenly made Harry feels very faint indeed.

Dumbledore suddenly shot up and said, "That will be enough of that. Please escort the Dementors out!"

Harry was surprised for a moment before he remembered that Dumbledore would of course be heading the trial as Chief Warlock. The horrible figures left, wizards escorting them out with white light pouring from their wands. The chill left the air and everyone settled in their seats once more.

Harry took a good look at Sirius Black as he was now.

He looked awful. He was starved, weak and silent, his head was covered in knotted and unkempt hair. The sight was pitiful and spoke of the horrors of Azkaban to Harry. The man's animalistic eyes were darting round the room, looking up at Dumbledore for a moment before darting round again.

He found Harry and stared.

_'He doesn't look so insane,'_ Harry first thought in spite of himself.

And he didn't; the man was looking at him with sadness, with regret but not with anger or hatred

Harry wondered what it was all about.

"Silence," Dumbledore boomed.

The courtroom went quiet at once.

"We are here today to try one Sirius Orion Black, who has been thusly accused of:

_The murder of Peter Pettigrew and the wilful murder of thirteen innocent members of the British public._

_Treason against the United Kingdom, for both breaking the statute of international secrecy and plotting with subversive groups aligned against the recognised government,_

_Aiding and abetting the murder of James and Lily Potter,_

_Wilful destruction of property that in turn demanded thirty weeks of the Ministry's time to maintains the Statute of Secrecy,_

_Knowingly joining and commanding the terrorist group known as the Death Eaters._

How do you plead?"

"Not Guilty."

The abrupt answer and denial surprised many in the court, as most loyal Death Eaters were proud of their depraved crimes. If Dumbledore was taken back he did not show it.

"Very well, the trial commences. Do you willingly submit to Veritaserum?" Dumbledore asked the man in the chair.

"I do," the man replied and he was quickly given a potion through the mouth that glazed over his eyes.

Harry remembered a hazy page and a half that he had read on the truth serum. IT was exceedingly powerful but answered specifically. You needed to prepare precise questions to acquire precise answers.

"What is your name?"

_"Sirius Orion Black."_

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"_No."_

The answer stilled the court for a time. Whilst Black had never taken the mark, he should still consider himself a Death Eater, shouldn't he?

"Have you ever been a supporter of Lord Voldemort?"

"_No."_

Several angry shouts were heard amongst the observers. This news brought into question the entirety of his crimes, and yet still didn't explain his actions.

"Did James Potter cast the Fidelius Charm on his residence in Godric's Hollow?"

"_Yes."_

"Were you their Secret Keeper?"

"_Yes."_

An angry buzz filled the room at the confession.

"To whom did you tell the secret to? A full recounting please."

"_Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Bathilda Bagshot, Frank and Alice Longbottom, James and Lily Potter, Peter Pettigrew._"

The questioning stop for a moment as Dumbledore considered. All around the room people gave their neighbours confused glances. None of those people were known Death Eaters and all were in fact, rumoured to be members of the fabled Order of the Phoenix.

"Did you knowingly give any information to Voldemort or his supporters?"

"…_No_."

The pause before the answer made Dumbledore frown.

"Did you kill Peter Pettigrew?"

"_No_."

At this, Harry and a few other people gasped in surprise. This trial was starting to make less and less sense. A man in rather raggedy robes was crying in his seat across from Harry. Dumbledore fell silent and conferred with both Madam Bines and the head of the Jury. Suddenly his eyes flickered in understanding.

"Did you pass the mantle of Keeper onto another?"

"_Yes_."

"Do you know who this Secret Keeper was?"

"_Yes_."

"Who was the Secret Keeper?"

"_Peter Pettigrew."_

Another few noises, this time even more angry. Peter Pettigrew was a hero in the last war, confronting Black before falling before him. He had the country's highest honour, for Merlin's sake! If he was implicated in this, it raised many questions as to who else had escaped the justice of the Ministry. A few 'imperioused' members of the jury were squirming slightly in their seats.

"And you did not kill Pettigrew?"

"_No."_

"Who killed Peter Pettigrew?"

_"I do not know. To my knowledge, he is still alive."_

Harry was shaking in his seat now, the murderer of his parents and the person who betrayed them both was free and at large!

"Why did you and he meet in that street after the events of Halloween?"

_"I was chasing him down."_

_"_Why?_"_

_"I knew he must have betrayed their secret to Voldemort and I also knew that he would escape if I didn't catch him."_

_"_What happened then?_"_

_"He came up to me in the street, shouted to everyone that I had betrayed James and Lily and then blew up the alleyway, bursting through to the sewer pipes underneath the street. This also set off a gas explosion. He cut off one of his fingers and then transformed into a rat, his animagus form. I was then captured."_

Harry whirled around to Ron.

"A rat with a missing toe, Ron!" he said to the red head, who had gone white.

"Oh _shit_, Scabbers!" he whispered.

"Where is he? Is he still in his cage in Gryffindor tower?"

"He was when we left, but remember, we talked about the trial last night..."

Harry went as pale as his friend.

"Excuse me!" he said aloud to the court at large.

"I happen to know a rat exactly as this man describes, in the care of my friend here. He is missing a toe and has lived for nearly ten years with the Weasleys."

The court exploded. Not only had Harry Potter defended Sirius Black, he had also told them where the actual criminal was!

"Dumbledore! Allow us to make a portkey into Hogwarts at once!" Amelia Bones shouted to the white bearded man.

He nodded and began rooting through his pockets. He found and tapped a yo-yo, creating a blue glow around the object. The Aurors held onto the extended string and disappeared into a blue haze.

"Order! ORDER!" Dumbledore shouted, "The trial will continue."

"On this new evidence, together with the fact that this prisoner," he indicated with his hand to the bare arm of Sirius, "clearly does not have a Dark Mark or any former convictions, I move that he be found innocent of all charges and repaid for his many years in Azkaban."

Dumbledore looked around at the Jury who were quietly conferring behind an erected privacy shield. They soon dispelled it and nodded to the Chief Warlock.

"Very well, cleared of all charges. Sirius Black, you may walk free from this place with not a stain on your character." The gavel sounded, and many people broke into applause.

Sirius carefully got up from the chair, having already had an antidote to the potion given. Now he shook Dumbledore's hand before making a few unsteady steps towards Harry.

Snape however, got in front of him very quickly.

"Wait Severus..." Black startled in a half whisper of a voice before the potions master could speak.

"I just want to say...that I am sorry for screwing with you for all those years. Please blame me and not James for that 'incident' at the Willow, he knew nothing about it until after you had gone.

I know it doesn't excuse my crimes against you...but I have been punished for every wrong thing in my life for nearly eleven years. Please...please don't judge me poorly now." Black finished his piece and started to move around the other man.

He was stopped again.

"Black, I still don't like you. I was abused every day of my school life because of you and Potter. You made my life hell and I tried to do the same to you. I can't take that back, but I am on my way to forgiving James Potter. I can't do that for you so easily...but I shall try'" the Professor said, not really sounding like the snarky bastard that most students know and hate, but an uncertain man who didn't really know what to say.

Both briefly nodded at each other before parting ways.

"Harry?" Sirius said when he got closer.

"Congratulations on your release, Mr Black," Harry said quietly.

"Hmm, oh that simply won't do. I can't be Mr Black, it sounds far too distinguished for me," the man said with what could have been a smile under all that dirt.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for chasing after Wormtail as I did. I should have stayed with you and did my duty. You see, I'm your-"

"My godfather, yes, I know. What did you call Pettigrew?" Harry said.

Sirius looked darkly at him, "That was the nickname we gave him when we had finished helping him become an animagus. James and I, we did it in our fifth year and it changed us considerably for the better. Wormy though, when we had finished helping the pathetic twit he ran off and joined Voldemort behind our backs. We never knew until it was too late."

"You and dad can change forms like Professor McGonagall? Isn't that monitored by the Ministry?" Hermione asked in wonder.

"Ordinarily yes, it's an insanely tricky thing to do though. I believe only three others have officially actually accomplished it this century. We were unofficial in our school years and when your father and I entered the Ministry as Hit Wizards, they kept our forms off the books to give us an advantage. It was the same with the Aurors. Very few of us could do it, and our enemies certainly weren't expecting it from us. So we kept it secret, and we paid the price. You say you know where Wormtail is?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, we think he might be Ron's-that's my friend Ron Weasley here, Ron's rat," Harry explained.

Sirius grinned savagely, "I hope they give him my old cell when they capture him. Word around the prison was that the Dementors are leaving, but I bet they'll make an exception if we ask nicely."

Harry shivered, "So what are those things?"

"Dementors Harry, are some of the foulest things that walk this earth. They live off the emotions of others, absorbing all positive aspects of people until you are nothing but a husk of what you were," an unknown voice said.

Harry turned to see the man who was crying earlier walking up to them with Dumbledore.

"Harry, this is Mr Remus Lupin, the man we talked about before," Dumbledore said as an introduction, before nodding at all three of them and walking off.

The two men hugged and Lupin apologised profusely for leaving Harry and believing Sirius betrayed them.

"I was a broken man once I found out. I was not only ostracised by society but now also alone, having had all my friends taken from me by Voldemort. I left after the funeral and didn't return to civilisation for a very long time. I heard about the new trial and made my way back here. I'm so sorry, both of you, you deserved better from me," the man said shamefaced, before Sirius clapped him on the back and said he forgave him, for the fourth time.

"What did the Headmaster want with you, Mr Lupin?" Harry asked.

"Please Harry, you can call me Remus...or Moony, I suppose. I'm sure Sirius has filled you in on our little nicknames, not that I really answer to it anymore," Remus said with a smile.

"Well, you can call _me_ Sirius or Padfoot. You'll see my animagus soon enough whilst-"

"Whilst I hope you never have to see mine," Lupin finished Sirius' sentence calmly. "Dumbledore surely told you of my condition, yes?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, let's just say it makes finding a job difficult. However, he is willing to make me a teacher at the school if I submit to every precaution they can think of. I'll also have to bow to whatever the board of governors say in the matter, they have final say in appointments," Remus explained to Harry.

"What are you going to do, Sirius?" Harry asked.

He laughed and said, "Well, for now I have to find a place to live and learn how to operate again. Then I'll figure out what I want to do. More importantly Harry, what do you want to do?" he asked in concern. "Where are you living these days?"

"Er..."

Both men exploded when they learnt of Harry's treatment at the Dursleys.

"Crap. Well, we can defiantly do better than that, can't we Moony?" Sirius asked his old friend.

"I should think so Padfoot. I'm also thinking we should have them arrested and locked away. We can't leave them with power over any child, not even their own if they treat them like that."

Harry shelved that line of thought and reached for another, more desperately hopeful one.

"Wait, so I can come and live with you?" Harry asked, hoping against hope.

"Ehh...probably? I'd have to be declared fit to go by the Welfare board and then we need to check over the Potter will, since neither of us have read it. Hopefully...yeah, we can live together."

"Gee Sirius, you are a bountiful supplier of optimism," Moony said dryly.

"I'm sorry, I did just come all the way from _prison_."

"Excuses, excuses."

"Guys please," Harry said, bringing the two back from their bickering, "When can we go and check all of this out?"

"We can go to Gringotts and read the will now," Moony said, glancing at his watch, "But we need Dumbledore's permission for you to go walk-about for the next few hours."

"Ah, hello again gentlemen. I must apologise again for not coming to your aid sooner Sirius," Dumbledore said, walking over from a bemused but happy looking Fudge.

"Ah, Harry, I am giving you permission to go to the toilets before we return to Hogwarts. Alas, the Ministry is a large place and I am afraid you will need some time to find them. So I'll give you the rest of the day to figure it out, and hope you don't go walk-about," Dumbledore said with his eyes twinkling.

Sirius and Moony rolled their eyes at each other behind him.

"Never changes, does he?"

"Not at all, Mr Padfoot."

Harry looked quickly at his friends.

"Go on Harry," Hermione said, pulling Ron away with Dumbledore which, she reflected, she seemed to be doing rather too much of recently.

"See you later," he called after them.

* * *

The trio found their way to Gringotts after Harry was once again acquainted with the horrible feeling of apparition. The security around the doors screamed with their eyes when they saw Sirius and Remus walked nonchalantly through them, and many a goblin claw tightened on their triggers as the group proceeded through the bank. They marched across the marble floor to the head teller's desk.

"Hello there," Harry's godfather..._his_ godfather, said.

The goblin peered up from his work and displayed the first emotion Harry had truly seen on a goblin, dull surprise.

"Oh good, you're out of prison," the goblin said with little enthusiasm. Apparently, Sirius had a reputation amongst the goblins as well.

"Never mind that, may we see the will of James and Lily Potter," Moony asked politely.

The teller peered at Harry for a second before pressing one of many buttons on his desk, "Barchoke, Rastaban, Griphook, you have a client request."

A few minutes later, two confused looking goblins in suits and one neutral faced goblin came out of a side door. Their confusion cleared when they spied Harry Potter amongst the visitors.

"Ah, Mr Potter," cried one of the unknown ones, "Griphook told me you had come through this past September. I am sorry we missed you but I was on holiday and Rastaban only works three days a week now. He's retiring next year. Griphook shall be his replacement. We are your family account managers, though we also attend to most of the other high security vaults as well.

Please step this way sir, and your guests? My, my! Remus Lupin! How are you sir? And Mr Black...please try not to set anything on fire, will you? Come with me."

The goblin went through the explicit action at high speed before racing off, with the humans looking bemusedly at his retreating back.

He turned around suddenly, "Come on, come on! We have many things to do today!"

"Ergh...Goblins, Harry..." Sirius explained to the boy. "Massive workaholics. That chap probably hasn't had more than two hours of paper work every day for ten years. Expect him to be very, very eager to do everything."

They followed after the goblin, with Griphook actually showing them the way whilst Rastaban was merely too slow to move at the pace his colleague was.

The will itself was fairly uncomplicated. Almost everything the Potters had left was left to Harry to be inherited on his 17th birthday. Remus Lupin was given two thousand galleons by James Potter and another two thousand from Lily. Sirius was given access to Harry's personal tuition vault, the one Harry had used at the start of the school year and the right to look after Harry as his legal guardian until he turned 17. He was also left 10,000 galleons from James...at the time the will was written, apparently Sirius had been left penniless by his own family.

"Don't worry about that Harry, Remus can have that extra cash," he said when Harry began to offer him finical aid he couldn't give, "My family took me back when I was thrown in Azkaban. Apparently they thought I'd finally found the 'light' as it were. Barchoke, I think you used to be in charge of what's left of the Black stuff too?"?"

"Still am sir and the fortune is mostly intact. 500,000 galleons in liquid assets and many unique items in the treasure vault plus the family house property, if memory serves correctly," the goblin ran off the numbers before routing through his drawers for something for Harry's godfather to sign.

"Ah, thank you Rastaban. Sign here please Mr Black. We can handle everything else."

Padfoot signed and claimed his inheritance. He looked as though he had just touched something revolting.

"Now Mr Potter, you were left what remained of the Potter fortune. They spent quite a lot of it in the war and beforehand, helping the Ministry and St Mungo's Hospital. Their large network of company business stocks however, remains intact and ready for you when you turn 17."

"Now gold-wise...ah yes, 847,000 galleons in the family vault, with 13,000 in the private vault of your parents. Here, there is also a treasure vault that is particularly full. Ah...the houses," the Goblin's face fell slightly. "I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but the family residence was destroyed in an attack following the natural deaths of your grandparents. The cottage at Godric's Hollow would need major rebuilding work and probably demolition first in order to be liveable again, that is, if the headmaster was willing to sell to you. There is a townhouse in Windsor that is unharmed, plus the land the Manor stood on still belongs to you. That's a great stretch of land by the way, quite close to the Goblin settlement outside of Tara. You could build again in that area if you so desired. However, for now, you may keep this key," he said, handing over the tuition vault key back, "And that is it."

"Thank you all for your help," Harry said as he rose to leave.

"Oh," he suddenly thought and turned back to the goblin at the desk. "Griphook said I wasn't allowed in the family vault until I was 17 anyway...something to do with an incident involving my father?" he queried. Barchoke gave a sharp look to Sirius before answering him, "Yes...there was a...misunderstanding between James Potter, this esteemed gentleman, three goblins and a um...Swedish Short Snout. The resulting crater was deducted from the family vault at their own insistence, and James was given a...what do you humans call it?...an arse kicking from his mother."

"Hmm...thanks again," said Harry, trying to contain his grin. He would have to ask Sirius about that later.

Sirius...

He was going to live with Sirius!

He wasn't going to live at the Dursleys!

"That was a good day's work I think, young Master Potter," Sirius said teasingly.

Harry groaned, he agreed with his godfather, he was nowhere near posh enough to be called that.

"Well Harry, I suppose I'll look into fixing up my place in London, as I'm fairly sure the damn pianist nicked my flat when they put me in prison. We'll see you again at King's Cross, alright?" said his Godfather, neither of them really wishing to leave the other now they knew each other.

"Right," Harry said with a heavy nod.

They shook hands, not quite ready for a hug yet.

"Harry, I'll see you there too," Moony said.

They shook hands also, before Harry walked into a fireplace and, feeling a bit silly, shouted, "Hogwarts!" Before disappearing from sight behind emerald green flames.

* * *

The two men walked out of Diagon Alley and went to the horrible house that Sirius had escaped from.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Sirius said.

"Very interesting security around here," Lupin said in response.

"True...Harry should be very safe here."

They went inside and coughed at all the dust.

"What a terrible mess," Sirius said, looking around.

"Filthy vermin, coming into my mistress's house!"

The two spun around and pointed their wands at a disgusting creature that was swearing loudly at them, which in turn caused a hideously portrait to start screaming.

"Well that's just _dandy_," both men said.

* * *

Harry was, for the first time that year, looking forward to summer. Ron and Hermione had both said their offers still stood if he wanted to visit, and he said that he most certainly would.

_'I wonder if we have a magical library in that house,'_ Harry wondered as he once again contemplated the list in his head.

_N.O. 1: Find a place to live...check._

_N.O. 2: Find out more about my finances...I'm filthy rich now...check._

_N.O. 3: Read, read, read...um...ongoing._

_N.O. 4: 'Adjust' my glasses...uncompleted._

And so the list went. He was actually doing pretty well now he stood back and looked at himself. He had a house, if not yet a home, some money and finical security for the future, two new friends that knew his parents personally and now he was being invited to friend's houses.

Honestly, if he wasn't carefully he might become normal.


	26. Chapter 26: Summer begins

**AEU Chapter 26**

Sirius Black was whistling in his family's ancestral home. That, he was fairly confident, had never been permitted before. It had been a most superb day. He had been freed of his cell out of Azkaban, found innocent at his trial, met and befriended his godchild and to top it all off, his mother was dead.

It was that last one that had him nearly jigging around on the hideous shag pile carpet his father had refused to get rid of.

"It's traditional," he had said-well that pretty much accounted for the whole family's attitude to everything. If it was old and crap, keep it. If it was new and better, burn it.

_'Little brother learnt that lesson too well,'_ Sirius thought bitterly, as he considered the crumpled figure in front of him.

Kreacher had keeled over in shock when he found out that he was back in town. The news that he had a new master had damn near killed him.

_'Ah...better luck next time, I suppose,'_ Black thought as he half-heartedly went about reviving the decrepit old elf at Remus' insistence.

The whole world seemed a bit topsy-turvy to him, now that Sirius had time to reflect on the state of things. The new Minister was competent, Dumbledore was explaining things properly, Lupin was smiling for once, Snape had _actually_ listened to him...

_'Hmm, maybe I did go mad in there,'_ he considered to himself.

The fact that he was dancing in his hated parents' house as he celebrated their deaths was not telling him anything otherwise.

"Kreacher...hello you old devil! Look who's come to see you," Sirius said when the elf came round.

"Kreacher must be dreaming...the rotten scum is in prison," a guttural voice croaked from the ancient elf.

"Now, now, Kreacher, that's no way to speak about your new master is it?" Sirius said gleefully.

"Kreacher was mistaken. Clearly Kreacher is dead and in hell."

"Oh, you wound me so, you horrible creature. Now, get up and make yourself presentable. We need to make this house liveable again," Sirius said, not really trying to hide his disgust at the old servant.

He didn't have to like it, but he needed the house disinfected of all its muck before Harry got here, and there was no _way_ he was doing that by himself (or even with Remus' help) alone.

"Master never took any interest in the workings of the house before...he was always busy trying to tear it apart, the ungrateful little-"

"Kreacher! Please refrain from using that language when the kid gets here!"

"Master is bringing Kreacher a nice Pureblood heir to the Noble House of Black?" Kreacher said, looking up for the first time.

"Half-blood, not that it matters. He'll be a great wizard someday," Sirius said proudly.

"Half-blood...mmmm, it's better than nothing, Kreacher supposes," the old elf mumbled quietly, "Master is so _sure_ he will be a great wizard, look at the example he has to show him..."

Sirius straightened up from where he had been kneeling in front of the elf, shaking his head in mock denial as Remus struggled to keep his chuckling silent. Really, Kreacher was so addled in his old age, it rather took all of the spite out the pair's comments, and just made them amusing.

"Yes...now scoot along, old one. Let's get the house ready for Harry!"

* * *

The trunks were packed, the owls were locked safely in cages and Ron looked forlornly at the square foot of un-dusty side cabinet where Scabbers' cage had lain.

The Aurors had arrived too late to stop Pettigrew escape from the cage, escape from the tower and escape down the eastern entrance. Unfortunately for him, he escaped into the Owlry, which nearly ended him there and then. He was quite relieved when the wizards came to arrest him. He was stuck in his rat form in a tiny hole he had found, trying to keep away from the vying birds desperate to eat the overly fat rodent.

They had kept him in the rat form because...well, because it amused them. His cage was now quite literal in nature, enchanted to not break even if he transformed back into a man.

Ron was feeling understandably down about the whole thing and Harry wasn't quite sure how he was going to cheer him up with just one train ride ahead of them. He supposed a grateful Sirius might gift him a new rat, or perhaps even give him a useful pet, like an owl. Their last breakfast had seen a new sight even the whole school year had passed: Ronald Weasley with no appetite. Hermione had stifled whatever amusement she felt at the situation in order to comfort her friend.

The twins on the other hand, had already been ribbing Ron about 'cuddling' and 'sleeping' with Scabbers. Harry wished they were joking, but he had caught Ron doing just that on more than one occasion. He winced at the implications.

One person who gave everyone a parting gift was McGonagall, finally making Hermione relax by handing out marks, which was something that hadn't happened since the Easter break. He had done well again, with E's in everything except History (A) and Transfiguration (O). Hermione had gotten all O's, on account of her being an extra special, super-duper genius.

Surprisingly, Malfoy was in the top twenty of students, which left many people once again wondering how he could be somewhat clever in the classroom only to be so foolish outside of it. Ron had done well in Charms and Defence (E's), and had even brought up his and Neville's potion grades up somewhat, just missing out on an exceeds expectation, though in Neville's case, Harry was sure he had already gone past what Snape (and truth be told, what Harry himself) thought him capable of. The man could teach potions, whatever his other faults.

* * *

Hagrid walked them down to the main gates, and along the way, Harry reflected on his eventful first year. He had been freed from the Dursleys, made actual friends, learnt things about his past and future, discovered who he really was (in a literal sense. 'Finding himself' was not something he really believed in at that point), met his godfather and was swiftly becoming proficient in magic.

He owed quite a bit of his success in class to Hermione, who had really pushed him to study the theoretical side of things, whilst he himself always preferred the practical. Ron had kept him sane when she was fretting about something, and had also defended him from Malfoy on one memorable occasion, punching the lights out of him when he challenged Harry to a duel. He was caught by the teachers, fortunately before Crabbe and Goyle had a chance to smash his face in. Harry could only imagine that in every bit of silver he had to polish with Filch to make up for the misdeed, he could see the image of Malfoy's nose crunching.

_'Ha, what are friends for?'_

* * *

The train was sitting ready at Hogsmeade station, ready to take them back to King's Cross. Neville had somehow managed to lose Trevor again, which made Ron feel a bit sad about Scabbers.

"Cheer up mate, your exact words about him on the train last time were-"

"Pathetic, isn't he..." Ron said with a small smile directed wistfully at nothing in particular. "You ever thought about getting a pet, Hermione?" he asked as they loaded their stuff onto the overhead rack.

"Hmm...Oh sorry, what was that? Um, I don't know actually. I suppose an owl could be useful but Hedwig is happy to take my letters to Mum and Dad. I'm going to have to-"

"Read up on it?" both boys said at once.

"Here they are Fred," a voice sounded from the open doorway.

"Well, well brother mine."

"Seems like only yesterday when they were all terrified firsties."

"All too true George. We can only assume our brilliant-"

"-Astonishing-"

"-handsome selves had a hand in getting these three through. Good job."

"How long did it take you to rehearse that?" Hermione asked.

"Couple seconds."

The four young friends rolled their eyes in unison at the twins but grinned happily all the same. It had been a good year.

"What's that there guys?" Harry asked, pointing at a largish box George was carrying tucked under his shoulder. He knew it was George because his shoelaces were messier.

_'Christ...a whole year with them trying to find out their differences and this is as far as I got?'_ Harry thought dejectedly to himself.

"Ah...well, young Harry," George said conspiratorially. "This here is a little greeting present to our little sister."

"Thanks in no small part to you," Fred said with a nod, "We can actually deliver this as promised."

George suddenly turned in apparent concern to his twin, "Hang on a minute Fred...what if the-"

"-the joke's not funny George? When has a joke of ours-?"

"-Ever gone out of date...yes, yes I see your point," George said, dramatically wiping the non-existent sweat from his brow.

"Wait, wait," Harry said grinning, "Is that an actual...?"

"Yep," both twins said at once.

"And you'll be pleased to know Harry, that this is from Snape's private quarters," Fred sniggered.

Hermione and Ron were open mouthed as George revealed a toilet seat from the box with a flourish.

Carved into it was, _'saved: From the arse of Severus Snape.'_

"I hope you cleaned it..." Harry said, repulsed ever so slightly by the object.

"But of course Harry," George said seemingly affronted, "As if I would handle this without dragon skin gloves otherwise."

"The bathroom however, is most unclean indeed," chimed in Fred.

Everyone descended into a fit of giggles before settling in for a chess tournament. The train ride seemed to be shorter this time, which led to Ron musing with a certain lack of seriousness that Dumbledore deliberately slowed the train down so they only reached Hogwarts at night, so it appeared more 'wizardly' when the new arrivals first saw it. Neville had found his toad and was happily talking Quidditch with Ron whilst Hermione read, for no good reason Harry could see, Hogwarts: A History...again.

* * *

They said they would be there, but Harry never fully believed it until he saw Remus and Sirius waiting for him at the station. It was a strange feeling, only a few months ago, Remus Lupin was just a name he had heard in relation to his parents, whilst Sirius was...well, the cause of their deaths. And now he was going to live with them...well, hopefully.

"Harry, we got permission this morning!" Sirius yelled excitedly.

"What? Moony as well?" Harry said in shock, having heard nothing but hate against werewolves in general whilst at the Ministry.

"Yes! I think someone higher up likes you because he was approved...almost instantly."

"Why the pause?" Harry asked with trepidation.

The group started to walk outside.

"Someone at the Ministry has had a most _unfortunate_ and _horrible_ accident," Remus said, mouth twitching upwards.

"Yes, the good madam undersecretary of Cornelius Fudge was storming through the department, trying to stop the licence going through. She has a pet hate with things non-human..." Sirius stopped as Harry gave an angry snort.

"Yes, yes, I know she's detestable for that. For some unknown reason, she tripped down three flights of steps and out of an office window, three hundred feet above the main Atrium. Fortunately for her, the fall was broken by half a ton of Dragon dung, which was being investigated at the time for being extremely flammable AND corrosive. I believe she is in intensive care in St Mungo's now...such a shame that."

Harry frowned at the exceptionally dangerous series of events. Had the woman really deserved all that?

"And you had no knowledge of any of this?" Harry said, cautiously.

"I assure you Harry, that we had no knowledge...about the Dragon Dung," Sirius said with a completely straight face, so Harry was unable to tell whether he was joking or not.

"Curiously enough, the goblins have declared this day to be a Bank Holiday...and the Minister's interior staff were having a rather raucous party when we left. I can only presume that the woman's absence will be felt by the whole ministry," Remus said, nodding along.

"Did...did you fix up the house alright?" Harry said, afraid now that things were going to go horribly wrong. After all, didn't they always?

"Yes, it's perfectly good to go. We only blew up a few walls," Sirius said excitedly, which Harry took to mean he really wasn't joking this time.

"Why did you take down some walls?"

"Portraits of my family with permanent sticking charms on them. Only way to get them off, I'm afraid. Although, behind one of the walls, we found a pretty good liqueur rack. I ever knew my father was so hard-core," Sirius said, with a grin.

Harry shook his head in disbelief, "Were they really that bad?"

"Worse Harry. If I could get a Hippogriff in their room to shit on their stuff, I would. They threw me out when I was sixteen, did you know that? Your dad took me in and we went from friends to brothers. It's a funny thing, love and hate, but I think I got a better deal than my parents did that time. I suppose now, things can be…different," he said reflecting inward for a few minutes.

Harry nodded, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.

"Well then," Sirius said, looking up at Remus after a while, "Enough of all the heavy stuff. Let's blow this joint," he said, pointing his wand, _'A new one?'_ Harry wondered, at a massive motorbike that sprang into life with a roar.

"Hagrid sent this back a few days after I got off. Terrific bloke that, very loyal to those who show him kindness. Anyway Harry, you might want to say goodbye to your friends for now," he said, motioning back towards Harry whilst checking over the bike.

"See you, Harry," Ron said. "If you ever need springing from these two, just owl me."

"Alright Ron," Harry said smiling.

The two shook hands and he re-joined his rather large family next to a rather small blue car. Harry shook his head, in this case it was probably better to just say think '_magic_' and be done with it.

He was hit with a brown, bushy haired blur that took the wind out of him.

"I'll see you soon Harry, okay?" Hermione was saying into his shoulder whilst Harry's face went from surprised to purple.

"Can't...breathe here," he wheezed out, causing her to jump backward with an apologetic look.

"Sorry about that," she said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it. I'll send you an owl when I get settled in. Something tells me he and I are going to need all the help we can get this summer," Harry said, rubbing his side.

"Of course Harry. I'll see you soon okay? Be safe," Hermione repeated before she scampered off to her bemused but rather pleased looking parents. They all waved to him before they got into their car: a beautiful Jaguar with a wonderfully green body work.

_'Righto, Harry old boy, time to move in,'_ he thought to himself as he accepted a helping hand from his godfather.

Apparently, helmets were too 'Muggle' for wizards.

"Don't worry about Moony, he's gone on ahead to make sure Kreacher doesn't do anything unspeakable for the next fifteen minutes. I thought, however, that you might enjoy the bike more than apparition."

"You thought right," Harry mumbled quietly, making Sirius laugh.

"So young Harry, what's the happiest day of your life so far?" he said as they both sped away down the road and into a new life together.

* * *

"So that was Harry Potter," Arthur Weasley said to his three youngest sons.

"Yes Dad," they intoned for the third time.

Ginny was bouncing in her seat, looking forward not just to Hogwarts next term, but also meeting _Harry Potter_ in a few weeks!

Ron looked at his three brothers, who looked back despairingly. Six weeks of this?

This was going to be a long summer.

* * *

"Was that the mysterious Mr Potter we've been hearing about?" Alex Granger asked her daughter with a smile.

"Yes Mum," Hermione said with a smile, "He's my best friend."

"Hmm, I see. And excellent teeth there by the way, little one," Bartholomew Granger said, absentmindedly looking through the wing mirror at his daughter's pearly white set.

"Thanks Dad. You know they have ways of fixing almost all dental problems over there," his daughter said, with a tiny plead in her voice.

"Hmm, I'm not sure how I feel about strange magic being cast directly into my oral cavity..." her father said, remembering the four letters his daughter had already sent him on the subject...and the three books also. "But then again, they would know how to simply _speed up_ the process a simple brace does. Yes...very well, you can get an appointment with whoever it is you wish to do your teeth for you but _only_ for a check-up first of all. We'll ask the professionals for their opinion shall we? I imagine there is such a place in that enchanting little alleyway..."

Hermione listened patiently, knowing full well it was never wise to interrupt her father's pondering on any matter. It did seem though, that she was going to get those teeth shrunk down.

"Both hands on the wheel, dear," he suddenly said to Alex, who was about to turn around to enter the argument.

"I would rather you continue with your brace, Hermione," she said, not just as her mum, but as her dentist.

She was very protective of her little girl and was not quite as interested as afraid by the magical world her daughter had entered, far more so than her husband.

"Alexandra," Bart started, causing a pout to appear on his loving wife's face, she didn't really like her full name, "It is mostly an aesthetic choice after all and only barely will affect her general health. This is no different than going to a private place and fixing it there, it's just quick, painless and probably free. Oh yes," he said as his wife raised an eyebrow, "I would imagine that in a society such as theirs, all healthcare is reasonably easy to do, with only the most extreme of accidents and attacks causing long stays in hospital. I would imagine everything is free of charge for the patient and it's taken directly from tax money."

"I think it's something along those lines Dad," Hermione said, though in truth she knew nothing of the sort and was just trying to force this thorough.

Her mum gracefully withdrew, saying that it still depended upon what the people at the clinic said and that this didn't let her off the hook for dental check-ups with her. In truth, she wanted her daughter to be happy, as did most parents. Her daughter's smile might be a bit neater with magic, but that could never make it more beautiful.

* * *

Harry and Sirius had pulled up onto the curb and watched as the house revealed itself. Neither one of them was watching the bushes nearest to them, if they had done so, they would have seen a curious sight.

Two tennis ball sized green eyes were watching the small boy on the back of the bike, before suddenly disappearing as if they were never there to begin with. Dobby had all summer to ensure that Harry Potter _did not go back to Hogwarts!_


	27. Chapter 27: The plot thickens

**Disclaimer: Slight hints of interrogation of a...painful nature in this chapter (i.e. we aren't in M ratings yet but will be in second year.)**

**AEU Chapter 27**

The holidays had started with a degree of relative peace and calm for Harry and Sirius. They had just spent the better part of the day in group therapy, as both had been forced into it by the well-meaning, caring, downright despicable bunch of bastards that hadn't checked up on Harry for ten years and left Sirius in prison for nearly the same amount of time.

They were grudgingly starting to appreciate the sessions led by an exceptionally talented nonmagical, which made Harry and Sirius both snort inwardly at how far the Ministry was willing to move earth and heaven for the two of them at the moment. The fact that they were both loaded with cash probably helped too.

The old house that greeted them was hardly comfortable or _homey_ yet, but the smell of rot had disappeared after Kreacher got to work. The little old elf was a bit cantankerous and it was clear to Harry that Sirius and he were...well, a little estranged.

He supposed it was because the elf was filthy, constantly swearing, hideously racist and a direct link to Sirius' troubled past, but when he caught the man hitting the tiny creature he realised exactly what the nature of their relationship was.

He wasn't quite sure how it was with the rest of the House Elves in wizarding employment, but Kreacher was very clearly a slave to his godfather's whims. He had approached both with his misgivings about the whole thing.

* * *

"Sirius? Why does he have to obey you?"

"Oh...it's written into the binding contract that he was written into on purchase. We buy the elf, then bond with them so they obey the family. They mostly work for corporations now but it used to be fairly common in most old or wealthy families...though a few take things a little too far," Sirius said absentmindedly, poking around in a bookshelf whilst perched atop a wheeled ladder.

"I don't understand."

"Hmm," Sirius considered for a minute before getting off the ladder and turning around.  
"You know Hagrid, right?" he said.

"Yes."

"He lost his family shortly after arriving at Hogwarts. The staff and students became his family and when he was expelled...for reasons I will not go into," he said raising his voice sharply when Harry looked as if he was about to say something, "He was offered and accepted a job there. Now, he loves his work and does what everyone asks him of, not just because it's his job, but that's what he loves doing. He doesn't want much, just happiness, honest work and a home.

Now House Elves are slightly different, in that their free will can be overridden by their masters, they are slaves in the technical sense: they work for free and basically belong to someone else.

However, they love, and I really do mean that, they _love_ to work and be useful, much like the Goblins do. They want to belong to a wizarding family not just because it strengthens their own magic but because it gives them a sense of belonging. They don't want payment because, in their minds, they are really just helping their families out. It's a very strange set of circumstances, but most elves would rather die than lose their families."

Sirius spoke all of this in a soft voice whilst looking at Harry, who understood that he, his godfather, must have had problems with dealing with this way of life himself and was also thinking of what his godson had been through, how he had been seized with inconsolable rage when he heard of the conditions within the Dursleys household. Harry was scared he was going to rush off to murder them like he had attempted, rather incompetently, to do with Pettigrew.

Harry objected to slavery because, apart from the various unacceptable morality issues, he himself had worked for nearly seven years without pay and the meanest bits of food for the Dursleys. He hadn't been _truly_ abused but he had been neglected and it showed.

"I just don't want you to treat him badly. He might deserve some of it, but remember, he is going to hate you because, as I understand it, you rejected your family and they rejected you, and also you both have been fighting for decades. You own him, and you have to take responsibility now," Harry said in an equally soft voice.

Sirius looked in thought for a moment before going back to sorting shelves.

* * *

Harry made time to speak with Kreacher also, since he himself knew of the drudgery of going about a signed tasks and only ever hearing orders.

The old elf was _extremely_ resistant but Harry could scrape a few sentences out of him every now and then that held some meaning other than the stuff his family had programmed into him from birth. He loved them still, even after their deaths many years ago. Sirius apparently had a little brother who, judging by the fact that he stayed around after Sirius left, meant that he was a Voldemort supporter, at least in theory. He wasn't sure whether he was a Death Eater, and he REALLY didn't want to ask Sirius about it.

"What did you like about Regulus?" he asked Kreacher, when they were both in a room lined with a family tree tapestry.

Kreacher had brought him here because he had asked about the Black family, after hearing it come up today with Sirius when asked about his childhood.

"Our whole lineage, from millennia to millennia," he said proudly, presenting the names of the whole Black family.

He was now smiling slightly, pondering in a dark corner at the question.

"Master Regulus...he was the most kindest person Kreacher has ever served. He was never mean like," he flickered towards the door," the _other_ one...Kreacher was proud to be his elf and look after his secrets-"

At that, he clamped his hands to his mouth and catapulted his face into the wall.

"Bad Kreacher! Kreacher shouldn't be speaking of-"

"The secret?" Harry said in panic, trying to pull him away from the wall.

It was quite difficult, the elf was only a third or Harry's size but still was fairly heavy. A year of good food and Quidditch had strengthen the boy somewhat but there was no erasing ten years of neglect in only one. That incidentally, was something Sirius had already raised concerns about, though Harry mused as Kreacher was still screaming and attempting to throttle himself, if he saw him at the start of the year his concerns would have been higher.

"Kreacher, please!" Harry shouted, causing Sirius to burst into the room with wand raised.

"Kreacher, stop!" Sirius ordered.

The old elf slumped in Harry's grasp, who hastily put him down.

"Alright there Harry?" Sirius asked worriedly.

Harry rolled his eyes and shot his godfather an exasperated look; the one creature in the room that had been screaming for the past thirty seconds was being ignored by him.

"Kreacher, what was that about?" he cautiously asked.

"Kreacher nearly broke Master Regulus' trust, Potter," the old elf said miserably.

"Regulus? That slimy-"

"You are not fit to speak his name you rotten pile of-" Kreacher roared before once again going for the wall.

Harry dove into him this time, looking at Sirius to show a little tact in this conversation, and he himself was getting a little rattled by the beating he was taking from Kreacher, and his godfather's casual indifference to the sufferings of the elf.

His godfather in fact looked incensed by the reminder of his dead brother and of Kreacher protecting him. He looked about ready to curse something, so it was rather lucky for the small object that suddenly popped out of thin air onto Harry's back that it was only hit by a powerful stunner by the on-edge, rehabilitating man who had spent the last ten years regretting not defending Harry properly.

"Harry Potter!" the small figure managed to squeak out before it was hit and thrown against the wall by a red light.

Everyone else froze, in confusion, in shock and in Harry's case, anger.

"Why the hell did you do that!" he said, rounding on his godfather, who backed away two steps.

"Someone just apparated into the house on top of you! What was I supposed to do?" Sirius said, bottling his own anger up because he could see Lily's old temper building beneath Harry's eyes.

"You decided to attack something, having no idea what it was or if it would even take a stunning spell well? You could have killed him!" Harry said, rushing over to check on the elf.

He seemed fine so Harry decided to see what information he could get first, without waking the elf. He had been beaten badly, from the looks of things every day of his life, by someone. This was clearly one of the elves from an old Pureblood family that liked to inflict pain on others. He wasn't wearing anything close to a uniform; Kreacher had, under stains and filth, something akin to a toga or towel with a crest on it.

Kreacher...

"Hey Kreacher, do you recognise this elf?" Harry asked the old one, who was in fact already looking over the smaller elf in disgust.

"Yes, Kreacher knows this one sir. Dobby is infamous for his hatred of Dobby's master. A lovely Pureblood family they are too, the Malfoy's."

Sirius and Harry both groaned. This probably meant trouble for both of them.

"Bring him round," Harry said, "Now." he said more sternly when the man looked warily at the body.

"Harry, we should probably get some binders to stop him from leaving. If he can get in, he'll get out if we start asking questions."

The boy looked over at his godfather, "Why wasn't he in something like that already then, if such a thing exists?"

His godfather looked at him for a while before talking more slowly.

"Harry, old style wizards are really, _really_ lazy. Do you think the Malfoys are going to stop their slave serving them at beck and call by limiting his abilities? Remember, they will assume he is loyal to the family, and regardless, he can be ordered not to leave without permission. The fact that he's here therefore suggests-"

"They sent him. Alright, sorry Sirius. I just think we should be more discerning about who we fire spells at."

"My instructor at the Ministry beat that out of us," he said with a grin, "Crazy goblin kept attacking us, in the toilets, in the office, at night in bed. You learnt to be...constantly vigilant."

"Hmm," Harry said interestingly, "Still, we need to bind this little fellow then...grill him. Have you got nothing that can help?" Harry directed the question to Kreacher.

"Ooh...Kreacher has many ways of making Dobby _talk_," the creature said with an evil grin, "Mistress Back's beating spoon has not been used in a long time."

"Kreacher," Sirius reprimanded with a shudder, no doubt repressing memories of the 'beating spoon'.

"I was more thinking about truth serums..." Harry said weakly.

"Hmpf, little master has no sense of adventure in these sorts of things," Kreacher mumbled before popping away to find what he could.

Harry felt...elated? The elf seemed to have accepted him enough to call him master...which Harry was now struggling with somewhat as it had a fair few moral implications.

Sirius caught his worried glance, "Well heck Harry, it's nicer than everything he calls _me_. Don't worry about it for now."

Harry nodded quickly before Kreacher popped back in carrying shackles, chains, a saucepan and, with what seemed to be great reluctance, a vial of fluid that looked like liquefied dog muck.

"**Wahrheit Offenbarer**," Sirius said in disgust once he picked up the bottle and examined it. "A Grindelwald creation...ugh, the glorious taste of the Black family, eh Harry?"

"Is that...safe to give to him?"

"Nope, but it's going to be the only thing that's going to work. Veritaserum is a stronger potion on wizards and Goblins, but House Elves have never been studied as extensively and Veritaserum barely scratches their psyche. You'll have to quiz Dumbledore, or Snape if you're feeling brave, if you want to know more."

Harry looked at the stunned elf for a moment.

"Bring him round," he said after snapping the shackles round his neck, wrists and legs.

The elf was in considerable distress when he awoke, but calmed down somewhat when Harry said that they meant him little harm...yet.

"You are Dobby, belonging to the Malfoys?" Harry queried the figure, to see whether what they already thought they knew was right.

"Yes, Harry Potter sir. Dobby is the wretched elf of the Malfoy family."

That remark had him trying to bite his own tongue out, but it wasn't long enough.

"Dobby, please answer our questions and then we will let you go, okay?" the boy said softly, trying to be kind even through his tension.

"Oh, Dobby is hearing of your greatness sir, but never your goodness!" the little one said reassured in full.

Harry bit back his anger at the elf being _happy_ that this was all they were doing to him. He was going to try and help this one if he could later.

"Why did you come here, Dobby?"

"Dobby has come to Harry Potter, to warn him..." his eyes bulged slightly before he forced out, "_Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!_"

Sirius was watching closely. The elf wasn't going against orders yet, but he was getting close to. He sighed when he realised he was going to have to force the potion through him.

Harry couldn't contain himself this time, "What! Why would I leave? Hogwarts is my-" he looked up with a flash at Sirius for a second, "-school," he finished lamely.

'_Ouch,'_ Sirius thought, surprising himself by how attached he had gotten to the kid within two weeks. He wasn't exactly shocked, Hogwarts was his refuge too from an abusive house, but he had so hoped that Harry had started to identify with him and where he lived.

"Dobby," he said, quashing these thoughts for now, "does this involve someone you can't speak about?"

The prisoner's reaction spoke more than his gurgle to Sirius. The fact he was now struggling to break something on the floor meant his masters were definitely involved. Harry looked half approvingly, half scathingly at Sirius. He was glad the man was trying to not use the potion, but this sort of self-inflicted pain, even if unsuccessfully, was horrible to watch.

"Dobby, one last question. This danger will come to Hogwarts, whether I am there or not?" Harry asked.

"Dobby...doesn't know sir. He only knows that it **will** come if..." and his voice suddenly died in his throat.

_'Damn it!' _Harry thought.

Sirius considered the information for a second before steeling himself.

"Sorry Dobby," he said, quickly throwing Harry out of the way.

He flicked the stopper out of the vial and used his wand to make the liquid flow out and into every pore of Dobby's tiny body.

The elf started screaming and convulsing before them, Harry being held back by both Kreacher and by Sirius' look.

_'Interfering now would only cause more damage,'_ he seemed to say with his eyes.

Harry was starting to feel the press of hot anger on his mind again before cold logic flicked it away.

_'Pull yourself together boy, lives are at stake here!'_ he thought to himself, mentally smacking his head as he did so.

Dobby had quietened to a whimper and his body had stopped moving, apart from the eyes, which were flickering upwards, showing the massive whites of his eyes in full.

"Elf," Sirius said in a sharp, commanding tone, "speak to me. What is the danger that is coming to Hogwarts?"

"My master will send into the school an object of great power that shall cause death and pain."

"How?"

"By opening the Chamber of Secrets."

Suddenly, the bindings glowed blue, which apparently meant something to Sirius. He whirled his wand quickly around, sending the liquid right back out of Dobby back into the vial again.

He was just in time, as when he had just pulled the last of the fluid out, Dobby vanished in a flash of light.

"Sirius...Sirius what just-"

"Come on Harry," Sirius interrupted, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out of the room.

"Get a cloak on and come back down here. We need to visit the Headmaster."

Sirius looked scared, for the first time since Harry had known him. He wasn't scared at the trial, not even with the Dementors in the room. Now however...

"Ready," Harry said, skidding back to Sirius' side.

"Kreacher, Hogwarts, as close to the headmaster's office as you can manage, please," Sirius said curtly.

The old elf moved forward with a fair amount of disdain, grabbing both of them before teleporting out.

* * *

Dumbledore had just finished packing for his yearly trip to Brighton before looking up sharply as a ping from one of his tables indicated the wards had been breached by an unregistered house elf. Then moments later, Sirius Black and Harry Potter burst into his office in great excitement.

_'This...this will not be good,'_ he thought to himself as he sat them down and began pouring tea.

"Albus, the Chamber of Secret's is going to open again," Sirius said, causing Dumbledore to spill tea all over himself.

_'Oh_...' was all the great wizard could think.

"I sense this is going to be a thrilling little tale, so let us all move to the Pensive," he offered, directing them towards the bowl full of semi-liquid memories.

* * *

He looked grim when they surfaced after watching the proceedings again.

"First, I would thank you two for acting with great initiative and determination. If you had simply revived...hmmm...Dobby, he would have escaped with even fewer details being passed to you. I must agree with Harry though, Sirius. Your caster-happy reactions aren't conducive to a family atmosphere, especially since this creature is clearly in some trouble and distress. This news is disturbing, even if it may turn out to not occur. This warning is invaluable."

"We have to close Hogwarts," Sirius said, looking like he was sucking a lemon as he spoke.

"On what grounds, Mr Black? You have performed an extremely controversial and illegal piece of dark magic on an unreliable source and received a few hints that the school might be in danger from one of its own governors through the usage of a legend," Dumbledore said incredulously, for once, outright showing his frustrations in his voice and movements.

"Lucius Malfoy is on the board, and as such will get me sacked before listen to my fears, particularly as he is the instigator in this plot. No, the school will remain open to all. Hmm, but Harry, you might want to take Mr Dobby's advice. You will, for whatever reason, be at a centre point in whatever game Malfoy thinks he is playing."

"Could he be working for Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Doubtful, he hasn't got the character to obey a weak master in another country. Far more likely that this is something he's doing by himself," Sirius answered.

"I am inclined to agree, Sirius," Dumbledore said, "I don't know what he knows about the Chamber or how to open it, but he certainly must be wanting serious upheaval and chaos at Hogwarts to attempt this. I suspect he has finally stopped dithering about being a former Death Eater after the events of last year...and perhaps the recent events the Wizengamot were privy to...which, I'm sure you'll you both understand, shall remain a state secret for now."

"Draco Malfoy probably knows if his father does," Harry said, trying to argue against the man across the desk from him.

"Perhaps, but I don't think Lucius trusts anyone enough with this level of villainy. The fact that Dobby knows therefore is probably by default, meaning-"

"He must have been ordered to help in some way, or activate something or bring the object to him!" Sirius finished off Dumbledore's pondering.

"I'm feeling out of the loop here," Harry said feeling slightly irritated.

He didn't like not knowing something, particularly not something obviously as important as this.

"The Chamber is mentioned just as a fairy tale at the end of Slytherin's chapter in Hogwarts: A History, and how did Dobby manage to escape so easily?"

"Dobby was bound by the shackles, but the House Elf's highest power is reserved for his master's will. Lucius or some other Malfoy had called to him to attend to a task, and he was easily able to escape. Whilst he displayed a remarkable defiance against them, and tried to answer our questions, he is still a slave to them," Sirius answered his second question.

Harry was feeling a little guilty for basically torturing an elf before watching him go back to an abusive family.

"I removed the potion because if he was still under the influence when he went back to Malfoy's, he would have been killed and Lucius would have been out searching for us. It's better to know what he's up to now rather than change his plans and have no idea. The bindings gave us a few seconds warning and were able to hold him for a few moments so I could remove the potion. After it leaves his system, it's untraceable."

Harry nodded, and then looked towards Dumbledore, who leaned back in his chair and started speaking, "The Chamber was built, according to legend, by Salazar Slytherin hundreds of years ago. It was hidden from even the other founders and is such, not really part of the school at all. No one knows where it is and the wards of Hogwarts do not interact with it. This makes it very difficult to find, as we are looking in Hogwarts for a room of non-specific size surrounded by incredibly advanced and ancient stealth enchantments."

"The monster within either replicates itself or lives for hundreds of years...unfortunately, quite a few creatures fit that description. The legend was proven true fifty years ago when several attacks were committed by 'the heir of Slytherin', who at the time was discovered to be-"

"Rubeus Hagrid," Harry finished with a sinking feeling. "But Hagrid wouldn't-"

"Of course not, Harry! Hagrid couldn't be the murderer and the monster he was rearing within the castle was nowhere near strong enough to kill a student: the only fatality, but more horrible for her family because of it. Hagrid was expelled and young Tom Riddle was rewarded by Headmaster Dippet."

At Dumbledore's mention, a portrait on the wall looked ashamedly away.

"At that time, the Minister for Magic was a young fool called Disarm Marrow, who later grew to be a very cruel and imperious Minister who led the war against Voldemort for a time. He blamed Hagrid as a quick and easy fix, though in truth he was a Pure-blood supremacist through and through and didn't exactly care whether the real heir got caught or not. Dippet caved in before him and the word of our own very talented Tom, whilst I was already under pressure by many to face off against Grindelwald himself, even though I had already intervened in the conflict thrice already. It was, for all of us, a very dark time, and Hagrid paid the price."

"I tried...shamefully not very hard at first but I tried to help him in any way I could. When my suspicions were confirmed later as to the true heir's identity, I even began teaching him magic again privately. As to the heir himself, he went from strength to strength after Hogwarts, becoming more powerful before eventually shredding his identity and becoming-"

The two others gasped in horror, "Voldemort!"

"Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the finest spawn of Slytherin House, the greatest wizard Hogwarts had the unfortunate fate to teach, framed an innocent man and was already killing by 16. The attacks stopped after I turned my concentration upon him in full again, and the Chamber has remained silent for years."

Dumbledore looked extremely old, Harry realised, when he had finished. He had never thought of the headmaster as weak or beatable, but he looked it now.

"So, we don't know what the monster is?" Harry asked, wondering about narrowing it down somewhat.

"Unless, and we of course cannot rule it out, the creature is of Slytherin's own creation and design, a few beasts do single themselves out for a long life span. Unfortunately, none of them can petrify people," Dumbledore said glumly.

"What?" Sirius said.

He had heard something of the Chamber opening from both his own parents and the Potters, but had few details on what happened to the victims.

"Sir, Fantastic Beasts and where to find them is not a complete list. Scamander himself says that a compressive list of all magical animals is an exercise in futility'" Harry said, not willing to admit defeat already.

Dumbledore chuckled softly to himself, this boy coupled Gryffindor determination and Ravenclaw answers.

_'Hmm, well, we do have something to go on...flimsy but I don't see the harm in showing them,'_ he thought before raising a hand.

"Quite true Harry, now that you mention it, I do have one more piece of evidence at our disposal," he said, pulling a memory from his head and getting up to add it to the pensive. "You see, the student who died here, as luck would have it, became a ghost on our grounds."

"Really?" said Sirius, "Wait...that wouldn't happen to be _Moaning Myrtle_ would it?"

"Moaning Myrtle?" Harry asked.

"I'm surprised at you Harry. I would have thought you would have been in at least one girl's toilet by now," Sirius teased, and then laughed when Harry blushed slightly and said that he had.

"Oh, you must tell me about _that_ one later. Yes...now, Myrtle, a very unusual thing she is too, very weepy and sorry for herself. Gave James no end of trouble, constantly popping up in the bathroom trying to see his-"

"That will do," Dumbledore said lightly. "Gather round and we shall see what she has to say for herself."

Harry watched as a much younger (but still quite old) looking Dumbledore stood in front of Myrtle asking her what she could remember about dying. After listening to her prattle for some time, she finally talked about 'big, yellow eyes...by that sink'.

Sirius, Harry and the memory Dumbledore all started forward to examine the sink whilst the old Dumbledore remained watching the girl with an air of sadness about him with his head bowed downwards.

"There's a snake on one of these taps!" Harry yelled and Sirius looked over.

"Yes...this is one of the activation places to open the entrance," he said, touching the snake as he spoke.

"Activation point? Isn't the entrance under the sink?"

"Harry..." Sirius said, raising a hand to his eyes, "Magic? The entrance doesn't have to be just behind the key hole. It could be _anywhere_ in the bathroom, or outside in the grounds. I bet there's multiple entrances, presumably quite a few outside to let the creature out and eat."

Harry bit his tongue and tried not to look too abashed at being so dumb.

"Sirius, I suspect that the Chamber contains a room that puts the creature in a stasis state, making it sleep and require little to no food or water, perhaps only once or twice a century letting it out to roam the grounds for one night. Only the heir can let it roam freely," Dumbledore said to the other man.

They were placed back into the office but remained hunched over the pensive, each deep in thought.

"A creature that kills with its eyes...or hypnotises people with them before killing them. That speaks to a serpent...which of course makes sense for Slytherin's monster," Harry noted, who was trying to think of powerful one's that fit the age range.

"Dragons then?" Sirius asked the room at large.

"Hmm, that makes little sense, as no wounds were found on the girl's body. It was as if she had been hit with the killing curse, the Avada Kedavra curse Harry... wait...WAIT!...That spell was created after extensive study of _Basilisk_ eyes," Dumbledore's eyes widened considerably before rushing with considerable speed to his personal library.

Harry and Sirius looked at each other pale faced, for once, both knew exactly what the headmaster was talking about.

The king of all serpents, the equal of the Dragon. As far as Harry knew, only a rooster could kill one with ease, everything else had the triple problem of the deadly eyes, deadly poison and sheer physical power a Basilisk possessed. It was a creature that could only ever have been created by wizards, and dark ones too. Slytherin creating one himself probably meant the thing was extremely large and powerful, possibly the largest ever made, unless Voldemort himself made one, and Harry wasn't sure that he hadn't.

Dumbledore returned with a very old book that went into Basilisks in great detail. It was worse than Harry thought.

Basilisk's fed not just on beasts and birds but on _magic_ as well. If it had been at Hogwarts for a thousand years, contained safely away in a chamber, it must be...enormous, far bigger than the size of a usual Basilisk...and probably far more powerful. Its poison could kill anything, almost as lethal as its eyes in that nothing could defend against it. Dumbledore looked contemplatively at Fawkes for a second before returning to the book. Rooster cries could kill a Basilisk if heard, though only Hagrid kept any roosters at Hogwarts and they were next to the forest, not the school.

"What do we do, sir?"

"Now Harry, you and Sirius are going to go home and try to enjoy your summer. I shall inform the Minister, who I must say, is coming on in leaps and bounds since you last met him, and then I shall enlist the help of a few friends of mine to help protect the school and look into this mysterious artefact of Lord Voldemort's that can open the chamber as easily as he can..."

Both others looked blankly at him for a second before gasping.

"Well, at least we know where one of those things is," Sirius said, trying to be optimistic.

"Meanwhile, if Dobby should show up again, tell him you know about the plot and beg him, on your hands and knees if necessary, to allow this plot to continue. We need that Basilisk in the open sooner or later or I shall not allow students within these walls again. Hogwarts will lose no more people to Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore ordered, a fiery spark shining in his eye.

Harry nearly protested but swallowed his frustration at being pushed aside. Dumbledore had a good reason for keeping him out of this, and Harry definitely didn't want to see this Basilisk near himself at any time in the future, or handle a part of Voldemort's soul. Just the thought of being near a piece made his skin crawl.

"Yes sir," he said after consideration.

Next to him, he saw Sirius visibly relax, which caused him to look a little sheepishly at him for angrily blowing up at him and yet not the headmaster.

"Right then Harry, I believe we were reminiscing on my despicable family? And you my boy must tell me about this toilet 'incident'."

Dumbledore shook his head smiling as the two strolled out of his office chatting. He frowned slightly as Sirius let Harry walk ahead a few paces before turning his head around and giving Albus a look. There was clear worry and concern in his face that Dumbledore was not at all certain was due to the Basilisk. Then Sirius turned and left the office also.

_'Brighton shall have to wait old boy,'_ the headmaster thought sadly for a second before getting up, stroking Fawkes once and then got busy sending out gleaming white versions of his familiar to various people.

_'Ah well, at least I'm ruining a dozen other people's holidays as well...'_


	28. Chapter 28: A new leaf

**AEU Chapter 28**

Sirius was slumped in a chair, drinking himself into being philosophical.

It was, he reflected, the damn kid's fault for bringing this all out of him now. At eleven o' clock at night, Harry was still busily carving some novice runes into his glasses which, though impressively fiddly, earned his godfather's disproval for being up so late.  
As the boy had stormed off in a huff, the sudden realisation action hit him like a punch to the stomach and a kick to his glorious loins at the same time.

_'Holy shit, I just ordered a kid off to bed!'_ he thought, astonished at how it all suddenly hit home that he was now, like it or not, the surrogate parent for Harry.

He _needed_ him, despite his independence streak, he was going to _need_ someone to support him, to believe in him.

_'I...can't do this. I'm not ready,'_ he mentally stammered.

The years in Azkaban had hurt him, not made him mature or grow up. He was suited to the task he was relishing doing when he saw James' terrified face the first time he held Harry: being the fun uncle.

He couldn't be a father...no, no, not yet.

There was no way he had the energy, the drive or the commitment. His body and mind were shattered with abuse but he was honest enough with himself to know that even if he hadn't gone to prison, he still wouldn't be suited.

James, for all his immaturity when he was younger, revealed his true self when he mastered his inner animagus form: that of a proud and noble creature, dedicated to protecting others. Sirius was...well, a dog. A dog then and a dog now. He could protect and defend, but he wasn't responsible or even that good a person.

_'No, I fought Voldemort, and I would have died fighting him if that's what it took,' _Sirius rebelled, slamming his fist down onto the table in anger at himself.

_'Maybe I was an arsehole at school and I was an arrogant prick. I fought in a war, I lost ten years in prison and the first thing I did when I was free was apologise to Snape. I am maturing and taking responsibility, you self-doubting idiot, so buck up and start realising it!'_

He knew Harry himself had doubts about himself, even after a successful first year, but _he_ wasn't Harry and he wasn't eleven years old any more. He was a man, and it was time to start acting like one. That letter from Madam Bones he had received a week ago was a good place to start, even with his physical condition he could start preparing to restore his life back to a degree of normalcy for himself. He supposed he didn't have to take her up on the offer immediately though, which meant he had the rest of the summer with Harry to figure things out and make some decisions.

When he checked in later to make sure Harry wasn't reading under the covers or quietly writing more notes on runes, (_'Sorry kid, you ain't getting away with anything in this house,_') he collapsed onto his own bed, not quite drunk enough to realise that this was probably the last time he was going to be drinking for a few years.

_'Ah, parenting...' _he mumbled into his pillow before wandering off into sleep.

* * *

The following morning, Harry was busily composing what he would write to his friends.

_'Now Ron isn't going to read something that's more than one side, so I better stick to location, how things are good, and to ask whether we are still on for three days from now. Also stick some Quidditch questions in there somewhere to make sure he writes back within two weeks,'_ he decided quickly, writing a message to that effect with ink and quill with smooth precision and swirling letter strokes he had learned from Penny, whose script was by far the best out of everyone he knew...except perhaps Dumbledore but then, he was hundred and eleventy and had probably spent fifty years practising that.

_'Hermione is more complicated,' _he thought, pondering exactly how much parchment he was going to need to fill out all the questions she would no doubt be asking him if she were here now.

_'Perhaps that would be easier, but then I would have to send a letter to ask her, I don't know how far away she lives and she will probably hold a short letter against me anyway…Christ, why can't everyone be like Ron?'_

His quill twitched before he started writing.

* * *

"Hedwig!" Hermione shouted when the familiar beautiful owl tapped on the kitchen window.

Her mother looked up from her coffee and medical journal with a confused expression on her face whilst her father stayed engrossed in his newspaper. Hermione wouldn't have put it past him to completely ignore a tank coming rough the wall when he was thus occupied.

"Oh, this is Harry's owl. Remember, wizards use them to deliver letters?" Hermione said as an explanation whilst letting the large bird in.

Mrs Granger got up as an owl was brought willingly into her kitchen, her expression towards Hermione broadcasting her fears of a mess on the floor.

"Um...she's pretty smart," Hermione said uncertainly, giving the owl on her arm a finger stroke, which earned her a hoot back.

"Don't shoot the messenger dear...and yet what if the messenger defecated all over your floor, hmm?" Mr Granger said, flicking over a page. "Besides, this is the owl that's been bringing the letters all year and she hasn't left one feather behind yet so I think your kitchen is safe."

Alex rolled her eyes and relaxed. Bart was exercising his unique brand of helpfulness again.

"Oh, it's a letter from Harry!" Hermione said excitedly.

"You astonish me, my girl," her father said.

Hermione ignored her esteemed father's comment and perched on the breakfast table to read the letter. Her mother stood surreptitiously behind her, reading over her shoulder, whilst her dad kept reading, chuckling somewhat as he was almost certain what his wife was doing right now.

The letter so ran:

_'Good morning Hermione, (and I have full confidence in Hedwig's flying ability, so I'm sure she'll reach you before noon), we're settled in here now.  
Sirius still looks bone thin but he's better than he was. The house is amazing! We have a fully stocked library, with several _hundred _books all compiling pretty much the most comprehensive and in depth guide to how to be competent in the dark arts. It's pretty fascinating stuff actually...and yes, I have looked for everything we've got on Horcruxes. It's pretty much what we know already, but it gives me a whole new wave of disgust and contempt for the apparent insanity of the man._

_Anyway, I'm fine and in relatively good spirits, the House Elf (an indentured servant race, I know, I hit the roof too,) Kreacher is almost constantly spouting off some form of garbage from his mouth, but is funny in his own way. He's treating me fairly well, as is Sirius. We are doing okay too, I guess. I think prison hit him hard and he's drinking a bit...at least, he did look drunk last night when he went to bed. I was looking out for him you see, because I was working on my glasses project before he told me to go to bed. I carried on after his door shut, and I can't wait to show you the improvements! Well...first I have to convince Sirius to activate the runes, since I can't do magic here...ah, shouldn't be too difficult._

_So, how has your summer been so far? I hope your parents aren't being too clingy with their daughter after she spent most of the year out of their sight. And if they _are _reading this over your shoulder, it only proves my point.'_

At that, Alex blushed slightly and ducked her head a little behind Hermione.

"Oh god...she's found a younger version of you," she sighed towards her husband.

"Indeed? How disturbing…" he replied quietly.

_'I'm not exactly sure if we are within a reasonable travel time for you, but if we aren't send a letter back and we'll come to you. If we are, we would be delighted to have a day out with you and your parents. Here is the address._

_I hope to see you soon,  
Harry_

_P.S Ron's already been by so please excuse the mess._

"My I?" Mr Granger said after Hermione finished. He read through the letter quickly and smirked at the boy's jab at them both.

"Sounds like fun," Mr Granger said, causing his daughter to grin and hug him.

"Well, London's not too far, and it's still fairly early. We could go if you want to sweetheart," Mrs Granger said, already knowing the answer.

"YES! I mean..." she backtracked a touch when she realised she had screamed that out a little bit, "Of course I would like to go."

"Ah London, I need to go there anyway since your mother insists I have to wear suits to those ghastly little occasions the Dean keeps sending me to. I told her that we wore robes over our clothes anyway but..." Mr Granger tailed off as he saw his wife giving him her custom 'silence' glare.

"As I said, sounds super," he said hurriedly, "Do you have any appointments today sweetie?"

"It's Sunday, dear."

"It is? Excellent."

Mrs Granger sighed internally before setting aside her own papers and preparing for the day ahead.

* * *

The Grangers were quietly surprised when they drove into the street full of lovely town houses. Alex for one was glad the rather poor looking boy on the platform was living in a nice place now. She didn't quite believe her daughter about the 'evil relatives' though.

When they parked and went up the road, counting the numbers as they did, they paused confusingly when the numbers skipped one, exactly the one they were looking for too.

When the houses began moving to make room for the ebony lined black town house that was appearing, by magic, their mouths hit the floor and only shut when the door opened and their daughter ran towards the small figure that emerged. Hermione stopped before she hugged him this time, staring at his clothes.

"Hermione?" Harry asked confusedly.

"Oh sorry, hi Harry!" she said.

The boy was wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans, which were remarkable in that Hermione had never seen Harry in anything so normal looking. The usual robes or extremely tatty and baggy affair was absent and made him look quite odd to her, considering how used to him she was.

His voice again reminded her that she was gawking like a fool, and she flinched before hugging him tightly.

"Of course..." he sighed lightly, which made her feel better; it meant he was starting to accept her hugs as something more than an annoying thing she liked to do to people.

"Good morning," he said respectfully when her parents reached them.

The mother looked quite happy to see him and greeted him nicely, if not yet warmly.  
The father looked at him like Harry was an ant under a magnifying glass before accepting his greetings cordially.

"Well invite them inside kiddo or will you spend all day on the doorsteps?" Sirius' voice came from further down the hall, "Come on in everyone, I think some of us need a sit down."

Harry supposed this was directed at Mrs Granger, who wasn't quite ready to fall down but was on the way there. Magic tended to have that effect on the uninitiated.

Hermione in her element as Harry immediately took her to the library where they could both read and catch up on things. All three adults smiled at them as they left before they began talking, seriously about their children and the world they were in.

"So you were imprisoned?" Alex cautiously asked, wondering whether the stick figure of a man with a simple but fine looking suit hanging off of him really wanted to talk about his injustice and wrongful prison years, but she needed to ascertain his state of mind.

From everything she'd heard and inferred from Hermione, whatever his relatives were like, Harry hadn't had much of a childhood at all and she wasn't going to let the young man lose his teen years to this man if he seemed unstable. The doctor inside of her wouldn't allow it.

"I know I don't look up to the task and honestly, sometimes I doubt I am myself," he said, seeing her question for what it was, "But Harry...you must understand that Harry and I have been through a lot in our lives, and being together, we can help each other out."

"I know the boy looks like he's doing well but he still needs someone he can trust completely. He has had to look after himself for a long time and I WILL NOT allow him to be hurt any further if it's within my power to stop it. I'm also one of the few people that have any sort of closeness to him that knows what he went through, as I experienced it myself. He and I, we are more inclined to be independent, and I'm pretty much going to listen and agree with his judgements unless I can see something truly wrong with them."

"I trust him already, and he is on the way to trusting me. We'll get through this."

Sirius said his piece with all the sincerity he could muster, honesty echoing throughout in his words. Alex nodded, still troubled slightly with the knowledge that the two people who lived in this house had been so wronged by so many.

"He is fascinating," Bartholomew said after a few moments of consideration. "He possess an eloquence you would not find out of place at the best public schools and, apparently, an intelligence to match. What on earth do they teach them at this school?"

"That he is," Sirius agreed, "Hogwarts does teach good study habits and common courtesy and stuff but Harry came to me with all that and more. I don't know how, considering the monsters he had been living with, but it's something I'm going to take up with his head of house when I get the chance. He isn't completely alright though...I know he still flinches away from most people and he is slow to trust...and there is something about his detachment towards practically _everything_ that seriously concerns me but he's a good boy. He still has compassion to those in need and some degree of attachment to his friends."

Bart was still mulling over Harry and then found himself thinking of his own child. She wasn't just amazing because of her magic but everything came at a price. He decided to share.

"Hermione is an exceptionally bright child. Whilst I...I know I have a very muddled up mind, hers is crystal clear and always learning. Unfortunately that later turned into a certain arrogant streak and a habit of being a know-it-all, which ostracised her from her peers. She cares so much about _everything_ that is important to her though I never knew with certainty that she would act this way around people and yet, she is doing so with Harry. It is...remarkable," Bart said quietly.

"I agree. I don't know where it will take them, but they are certainly going to be good friends for years. My only worry is that it will end badly. Puberty can be...confusing for everyone," Alex said after a while.

Her husband's lips twitched upwards. She cringed a little at what he must internally be laughing about. He had been completely oblivious to both her and all other advances throughout Sixth Form and University. She on the other hand, had acted like some hormonal rabbit until she finally calmed down. She wondered why exactly he suddenly decided to say yes two years after graduation when he had been politely running off for so long. He did though, and they had been happy with each other for a long time now, even with their different…outlooks.

"You assume too much dear," he said, cutting off her stream of thought just as it ended. He was rather good at judging that. "I wouldn't presume to know how either would react, since Harry has only been interacting with people properly for a year and Hermione has never expressed any real indications of any kind," he said, expanding upon his remark.

It was a rebuke, soft as it was, and she could tell what he was thinking.

How the hell did they even know 'which way they'd swing', or how their relationship would pan out, particularly with Hermione, bearing in mind the sensibilities of her father.

Both were close enough already and basically lived together, they were more like siblings from what Alex had seen. And why did it matter anyway, it wasn't going to come up for a few years yet and was beyond their control?

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," Sirius said, shuddering slightly.

_'Ah-ha,' _Alex thought, _'at least I have one ally if things do go south.'_

"So, Mr Black, what do you wish to do with your new found freedom?" her husband asked, leading to a string of innuendos that went straight over his head and made the other two laugh very hard indeed.

* * *

"Wow," Hermione whimpered as she took in the large room filled with books and comfy seats.

"Did you just whimper? Do people actually do that?" Harry asked incredulously.

"_Marry me Harry_," she half whispered, half hissed at him before diving into the rows of tomes.

Harry snorted before going over to his workbench and started tinkering with his glasses again. He reckoned she would spend at least a minute roaming around eagerly before she realised what she had said.

A small shriek and a red faced Hermione that appeared forty five seconds later made him giggle before he nodded his acceptance.

"So, how did you improve your glasses-How did you do it without-How did you carve in runes without seeing clearly?" she asked at top speed, answering her questions herself mentally before she settled on one.

"I got some new ones," he said simply.

"Oh..." she said, blushing again out of irritation at missing the obvious.

"Yeah, I'm going to use these better ones for house use, improve these old ones to the best of my ability and then copy them exactly onto an identical pair, so I'll have Mark I glasses and replacements."

"Mark I?"

"What, you think I won't improve _something_ in my remaining six years at Hogwarts? Remember, when my eyes stop growing, I can adapt these to contact lenses."

"Fascinating!" Hermione said with genuine curiosity. "What have you figured out already?"

"Only a zoom function with a few adjustment options and a recording motion," Harry said, passing the glasses to her.

They made her brown eyes very large and he could see her squint.

"Voice activated like this: Adjust!" he said sharply, causing the glasses Hermione was wearing to suit her eyesight (20:20 if the optician was to be believed, which she should be).

"Alright?" Harry said concernedly, for her yes but also hoping that his creation didn't break.

"Brilliant! How does the zoom work?"

"Focus on straight ahead, then blink rapidly five times. Then it will zoom in whatever the glasses are looking at. 2x, then 5x then back to normal. Blink five times to alternate."

"It's a strange sensation," she admitted after her eyes had grown large and then filled the lens from Harry's point of view, _'Note to self: put a chameleon rune under each lens on the frame. Hmm, Mark II should be much improved when I learn about glass transfiguration and manipulation. Might have to search out the Rune professor, whoever that might be. This note is getting too long...'_

"It's very impressive considering you could only put stuff on the frame," Hermione said, wondering whether that was jealousy or admiration in her own voice.

"Sirius said so too. He offered to fix them up himself but I want to go through the process...should teach me more effectively," Harry said, his English becoming more noticeably fragmented to Hermione, which she knew meant he was trying to talk and ponder a few dozen things at the same time.

"Maybe you should let him? He is your godfather after all and you did help him in the trial. Perhaps he wants to do something for you," Hermione suggested, knowing that Harry was quite independent, but deep down quite liked it when she or someone else cared enough to help him.

"I...I suppose I could. I don't know why but I-"

"Can't bring yourself to ask someone for help?" Hermione said softly. "Harry, you have to start trusting people, you can't go through life on your own."

"I've gotten this far."

She wasn't accepting that. "Yeah but not far enough. You need to trust Sirius, even if just a little at first. He truly seems to care about you and you need someone other than Voldemort in your life."

Harry stilled for a while before resuming his page turning.

"Before we met, pretty much everyone I knew hurt me on a daily basis. Dudley physically, those other two in worse ways," Harry said quietly, still flicking through his notes, but with unseeing eyes.

A hand caught his in mid turn.

"Do you trust me, Harry?" Hermione asked seriously, rather more quietly than even her normal voice within a library.

_'Do I?'_ Harry panicked desperately. _'Would I take something she said as fact, trust her to do the right thing, come up with a good plan? I thought she and Ron wouldn't hand me over to Voldemort like Siri- like Pettigrew did.'_

Tentatively, he answered with a, "Yes...?"

Hermione blinked furiously for a second before looking away.

_'Oh...yeah right, probably should have lied...Note to self: lie in future,' _Harry thought too late.

"No wait! Look, I trust you more than just about everyone I know. That is...I trust you to be right, to know things and to be the person I know and like...but you seemed to be asking if I trusted you implicitly, like I could fall over backwards and know you would catch me."

She nodded.

"I don't think that. I _can't_ think like that at all yet. I've never seen anyone ever do anything nice for me without a reason. Dumbledore is a good man but has been quite outright in saying that I am useful to him, though I suspect not in the ways we have talked about already. Sirius has taken me in but how do I know he would do that if his dead best friend hadn't demanded it? I...I can't...I-"

Suddenly, Hermione understood.

All along, she had known he had something of a self-confidence problem, of believing himself to be inferior to just about everything else in the universe. Some of that might be from his ingrained sense of modesty but a great deal came from his abusive past. His relatives had never given him anything without demanding the earth back. He wasn't _opposed_ to love or affection, wasn't damaged or raw by it but he couldn't trust anyone he met nor recognise positive impulses _because he had learnt not to._

He thought he wasn't worth anyone's time unless they needed him for something. She wasn't privy to most of Harry's conversations with the headmaster...because he didn't trust her, she realised sadly...but she knew that Dumbledore wasn't cruel or evil enough to use a boy to achieve his own ends.

Sirius was ready to open his heart to Harry and he only saw crossed fingers and false smiles because that was what he had come accustomed to seeing...even at school. She had seen the fan club, Daphne Greengrass and the other enterprising, nasty people that wanted a piece of her friend for their own benefit. She herself had viewed him as a puzzle and not a person before she came to know him.

"I'm sorry Harry," she said, both mentally and vocally.

She felt great wells of pity and grief for the now frozen downwards face of Harry whose icy demeanour reflected her...and everyone else's wrong doing.

She felt a little sick.

"Hermione...I'm sorry too. I don't -"

"Don't you DARE say you don't deserve _me_, Harry Potter! You are the smartest, bravest and bestest (_'bestest is not a word dear,' _her astral plane father said,) person I know. _I_ don't deserve _you_!" Hermione suddenly started yelling, almost shaking her words into him.

He looked on, a little shocked, as the bushy haired bookworm defended him against himself with a passion he didn't often see in her.

She was slightly pink in the face when she was done but Harry had heard enough anyway.

"Congratulations Miss Granger, take a thousand points for Gryffindor," he mumbled, barely making his joke heard before he launched into her slightly larger frame, knocking whatever wind she still had out of her with the first hug he had ever initiated with anyone.

_'Hmm, it's not a bad feeling...Could be worse...although the hair gets in the face a bit, doesn't it?'_ Harry fragmentary thought in between boughts of intense shock over what he was now doing.

_'Well...maybe I've finally come to terms with myself and embraced the crazy...'_ another unhelpful part of his mind said.

The hug lasted about three seconds longer than necessary for Harry; Hermione had ensnared him in an even tighter one that he didn't have the heart, or the strength, to break out of. He was after all, about three inches shorter than her.

When it ended, both children stared at each other for perhaps even longer seconds before Hermione managed a quiet, "Harry?"

"I can see why Humans go into this sort of thing. Not bad for a first attempt, if I do say so myself," Harry was prattling thoughtlessly to nothing and no one in particular.

"What...you think you can do better than me?" Hermione said, arching an eyebrow.

"Nope, not even falling for that one. This isn't going to be a regular thing, just for occasions when you do something, you know, extraordinary," he said dryly.

"Oh...well," she said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"Hermione...you do realise we're magic right? We do extraordinary things five times a day _bare minimum_," Harry said with a small smile.

She answered that with a much larger smile, and not just because of her larger teeth.

"Oh...by the way, your glasses have gone a bit lopsided," he said with a bigger grin, causing Hermione to place the magic glasses on the table carefully before enveloping him in 'mutual hug N.O 2'.

* * *

"I enjoyed that," Harry said with enthusiasm after everyone else in their party had dropped into their preferred padded cushioned sitting object.

"You see, he gets it," Mrs Granger said to the other three people, two of which were looking at them both like they would very much like to kill them, one too exhausted to even look up.

Alex Granger had effectively both led and forced upon the charge to the city upon the others, with Harry being cautiously curious whilst the rest were already wearing their customary faces of despair.

_'Really...it couldn't be so bad,' _Harry thought to himself once they entered the first set of shops.

Harry had only ever been to the shops in Diagon Alley before, and most of those had been interesting in some away, with his favourites changing with every visit. The modern wizarding tailor shop, opposite the street from Madame Malks traditional wizarding robes, was a marvel of colour and material. Sirius clearly enjoyed wearing something that wasn't made out of nettles, whilst Harry enjoyed having something that fitted, didn't smell of Dursley and looked much less depressingly bleak than his old clothes, the colours of which had long ago disappeared.

It turned out he had liked nonmagical shopping almost as much as the store managers liked money, burning a significant amount on himself and Hermione, having waved away the Grangers protests of financially crippling him at the first store by absentmindedly telling them his by offhandedly stating his main account balance and the galleon to pound going rate. Not that he had access to that yet but his parents personal vault of gold was certainly his now...well, and his tuition vault, though he didn't think it was wise to empty that one so eagerly.

Mrs Granger had turned out to have a brilliant eye for an individual and their preferred style and interests. Harry had approved of her suggestions for shoes and socks, since he realised he did need trainers, a fairly heavy pair of work boots and some normal black shoes for everyday wear for the sprint, hike and marathon that was a year at Hogwarts. Before today, he and Sirius had only bought comfortable, plain and ordinary clothes, for neither one particularly cared two Knuts what they wore as long as it fitted and was practical. Shoes it turned out, were a bit harder and both agreed silently after seeing the huge range of normal footwear that magical versions would probably be better.

Hermione and Mr Granger were constantly hanging back and trying to escape down side alleys and streets but even they admitted that they liked their own pick outs.

"I can't believe she makes us do this every two months," Mr Granger said to Hermione after two hours meandering through London.

"Everyone needs an outlet Dad, and besides, Harry seems to be enjoying himself," Hermione said, the pair smiling as they both recalled his reaction to entering Hamleys a few minutes previously. Suffice to say, that he wasn't going to be coming out for some time.

Sirius was not _as_ eager as his young godson, he was after all, a grown up.

Still, he had never truly shopped for anything before that wasn't food, pranking equipment or Hogwarts stuff, and he seemed to view the huge toy shop as the Second Coming. Both boys had been swept away by the kind of magic you couldn't really see but always knew was there inside of this place. Mrs Granger actually had to call time on their wanderings eventually, even she was itching to go somewhere here else. Whilst no real visit to a London Gallery or museum can truly be completed in one day, magical teleportation greatly enhanced the possibilities to the point where Harry received at least a look into most of them. His favourite few were filed away inside his memory for later viewing.

By late afternoon, Sirius' meagre supplies of energy were spent, which was fortunate for the two non-insane Grangers, who were also exhausted, but didn't have a medical reason to take it easy.

Grimmuald Place had never looked so inviting to Sirius as he slumped comfortably in his wingback and dozed as the four others fought a verbal battle as to the pros and cons of shopping for longer than absolutely necessary.

"A great shame that my wife has corrupted you, young man. You showed such promise," Mr Granger said, shaking his head sadly.

"Really Harry, you didn't need to buy me that much stuff," Hermione said for the thirty seventh time, causing Harry to, once again wave his hand as if to say, '_think nothing of it.'_

"I don't know Harry, you make my daughter happy, you love shopping with me, all you have to do is take Bart's course and you'll have all of us under your thumb," Mrs Granger joked.

"Pish-posh, anyone who buys such a magnificent specimen as that hat deserves respect," Mr Granger said offhandedly, casting slightly envious looks at the other man in the room, who was lucky enough to be sleeping through all of this. He didn't really mind shopping, he just hammed up his performance because Hermione genuinely disliked it. The only reason they could get her to do any at all was because she knew it bought her bookshop time.

"You must come round for dinner some time Harry, and Sirius as well of course. We leave for our holidays in a few weeks but you are welcome any time before or after then," Mrs Granger said kindly, causing Harry to give her a grateful nod whilst Hermione perked up a little from her grumpy expression.

The lazy, relaxed atmosphere that was slowly enveloping the group was shattered with a crack when Kreacher appeared.

"Young Master, it is time for afternoon tea," he said in his croaky voice.

When the elf took in the three obviously nonmagical people sitting and staring at him, Harry had only three seconds of thinking and reacting time before both sides started screaming.

* * *

After waving the three Grangers happily goodbye after an additional two hours, one and a quarter of which had been of Sirius going through some extremely complex social issues, he turned to Harry in the doorway, "Phew...explaining the concepts of House Elf enslavement to three indignant people at once whilst trying not to murder your own is _not_ something I wish to do again Harry."

"It certainly looked interesting to watch," Harry said helpfully.

"Hmm, yes, I do appreciate your excellent strategy of sitting back and watching me work..."

"Yes well, Hermione pointed out I should start trusting you to look after me," Harry explained.

Sirius' expression softened, "A good friend, that one."

"The best."

Sirius peered at his charge for a moment. Sometimes Harry seemed so much older than his eleven...well, nearly twelve years. And yet he still was fairly fragile and not ready to take on the world by himself. He at least, was smart enough to realise that. Perhaps that was why he was looking to Sirius for aid but regardless, Sirius saw the opening Harry was providing him with and decided to take it.

"You know, I rather like being responsible for you," he said after that reflecting.

"Huh...It's not exactly raised by wolves but at least I'm being raised by a doggie."

"Yes. Wait...I'm not a doggie!" Sirius said as both Harry and Kreacher began laughing, "I'm a _half-wolf, half-Grim_ animagus, not a doggie!"

"Doggie," the other two insisted in between sniggers.

"Master should be notified it is a nice evening outside, perhaps he would like to go walkies before his dinner?" Kreacher asked with a completely straight face, conjuring a lead and a collar in his hands.

"Oh that is sick and wrong on many levels! You two are never going to let this go are you?" Sirius groaned.

The two smaller people shook their heads gleefully before giving each other a conservative high five when he turned away to go kick the wall.

"I bet you turn out to be a Robin or something," Sirius said quietly to himself as he rubbed his foot.

"Cheers Kreacher, you always have a way with words," Harry said with a chortle before turning and walking up the stairs to continue his work.


	29. Chapter 29: Reminiscence

**AEU Chapter 29**

"Yes Professor? What do you need?" Charles Hardy said to the headmaster as he marched through the emerald green flames, barely pausing in his stride to swipe the soot from his uniform.

"Lord Voldemort had in his time at Hogwarts a ring of historical significance, a ring he was quite attached too. He wore it for some time after he came into possession of it before it mysteriously disappeared from his presence. Since I have discovered that this ring was not only a valuable heirloom of Slytherin, his house's namesake, but also personally attached to the young Tom Riddle for some time, I suspect it to be-"

"His first attempt at making Horcruxes_?_" Hardy asked, pondering on the implications of maniacs who couldn't die.

"Just so, or at least, it's the most likely starting point. Finding where he hid it is one thing, obtaining it so we can destroy it will be even more difficult."

"Exactly how tough are these things going to be?" the old soldier asked, already calculating the possibilities of merely finding the target location and then bombing it to smithereens.

"Alas, it will be difficult. It has to be put beyond magical repair which if you remember from your days in the field-"

"You people can fix just about anything..." Charles murmured back.

_'Damn, looks like this is going to be more difficult than I thought,'_ he thought grimly, leaning over the table to get a good look at the map that had just appeared there. "Secluded little village in the countryside...well, at least it won't be too difficult to keep people away."

"Hmm, pinpointing the exact house location will be difficult. I just pray he hasn't put it under a Fidelius Charm, if so it will be nigh on impossible to find," Dumbledore said, frowning heavily under big bushy eyebrows.

"Didn't you say you had a memory about this house?"

"Oh yes, but that was over fifty years ago. The brush and shrubbery will have grown out since then, and regardless, Voldemort will have certainly made it irritatingly difficult for people to find the hiding spot, even if they knew where the house was originally."

"What do we do then?"

Dumbledore leaned back, winced as his aged bones cracked unpleasantly, and sighed. "I think we need some help with this one. I will go first on a reconnaissance mission to find the charming hovel, then I'll come back with some curse breakers and a platoon of Rakers," he decided, glancing at the other man to weigh his own opinion.

"Sir, I recommend you having guards with you as soon as you arrive. Let's all go in, cordon off the area and then let you and the curse breakers go through this...hmm, bit small for a road...lane, top to bottom, systematically."

Dumbledore smiled ruefully, "Ah, here is where I must tell you that I am a teacher more than fighter. Of course you are right Charles. When will your troops be ready?"

Charles Hardy grinned at him, "We're always ready sir."

* * *

"Okay, okay Sirius. I promise I'm serious about not calling you 'Doggie' again. Can you please stop peeing on the carpet?" Harry begged the overly large wolf/dog/Grim (whatever a 'Grim' was), who was currently running throughout the house, stopping only to pee and howl.

The howling was because of Kreacher and his saucepan. The peeing was of his own volition.

"All it took was the magic word, pup," Sirius said, laughing as he transformed back into the matchstick man he was normally.

Harry glared at him, "You are NOT calling me that!"

"Oh, and why should I not? Are _you_ going to start defecating?" Sirius said in mock fear.

"Note: Must look up how to neuter pets," Harry muttered darkly, causing Sirius to jump backwards slightly, sending him sprawling into Kreacher, who was not best pleased at the way he was treating the most Noble and Ancient House of Black.

"Ah, you need to lighten up my boy, James was never..." Sirius tailed off before slapping a hand to his mouth.

Harry had frozen in place.

"Um...okay. I'm not going there again," he said weakly as Harry regained his composure.

_'Nice one mutt, comparing a child to his dead parent. Smooth.'_

"Okay, this is obviously a little sore for both of us..."

"No, I'm sorry. It's just...I'm only ever compared to my parents. I rarely hear anything about them, except from Hagrid...and well, you know how he makes everyone out to be.

"Oh..." Sirius said dumbly, not entirely sure how to proceed.

It was the third time in as many days that he cursed giving up drinking.

"Whilst we're on the subject...is there anything you _would_ like to know more about?" Sirius asked, cautiously treading over the ice that was threatening to spread through the room.

They had had a few chats about his mum and dad before but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough yet to go through everything that Sirius remembered or that Harry wanted to know about.

Harry idly kicked softly against a chair before throwing himself down in it, his usual elegance noticeably lacking as he thought.

"How did you guys do it? Become animagus so easily?" he said, curious not just because he wanted to hear another story but because he was quite interested in trying it out himself.

"Hmm, background knowledge first, since I know what you're thinking right now. It took us _years_ to figure it out, it took some complicated transfiguration, potions and a great deal of luck in the timing for us all to do it in our fifth year. We risked our lives and took exceptionally stupid risks because we were arrogant pricks and though we were invincible."

"Let me explain: your animagus form is a reflection of _you_...not exactly your inner spirit or whatever, that's Divination bullshit, but still a truthful image of your absolute base qualities. You might be surprised, shocked, offended or even in denial over your form should you ever succeed, but anyone who knows you well will _immediately_ grasp on how much your form actually reflects you."

"We started in third year, Christ that was a while ago...when we learnt the term in class. Most of that year was spent figuring out how each individual of our group would do it...it's a very personal brand of magic, which is one of the reasons why hardly anyone does it. There's not very many books, just fairly vague hints and tips on the subject. The theory underlining the whole process is written in stone, how **all** transfiguration works, but how you interpret it...well, that basically sums up how well you'll do."

"There's another thing too. We had most of the niggles figured out, or we thought we had at least, by the end of fourth year. Thing is, you have to be in a surge year, at the right moment, for your first transformation, or you'll never be able to subconsciously or consciously control yourself in animal form. Even if you are out by a few minutes, it can have adverse effects."

"Surge year?" Harry said confusedly.

"Ah, yeah. You know how a wizard's...endurance, his stamina, how much he can perform and cast spells before exhaustion, and how powerful those spells can be? It grows every year, slowly and steadily, a little trickle that constantly keeps filling you, expanding your powers and capability. It also has the side effect of giving magic users rather longish lives. Well, that and our great healthcare system and incapability of dying by any non-magical accident."

"Fascinating," Harry said, quite enthralled by the connotations that the information had in regards to his own body. He would become much more powerful in time, and from the sound of things, had more time than the average person to develop himself further.

"Well, every decade, you have a surge year in which your magical core grows much more quickly. On your tenth and twentieth birthday for example, you will have a surge in power that will abate only after a year has passed. Think of it as a magical reservoir building up somewhere, feeding you a trickle constantly. Then it bursts, giving you everything. The surge takes a year to finish, before its back to the trickle again. Same every tenth year until you drop."

Harry nodded, indicating that he was following.

"Well, in your teen years, you have some _extra_ surges, on your sixteenth and seventeenth birthdays respectively. So we could _only begin_ to do our thing when each of us turned sixteen. At various points in that year there were points when the surge peaked in intensity, we had to predict those moments down to the minute in order to give us time to prepare."

"We also had two other surge years coming up soon but if we waited that long, we'd have less time to spend with Moony when he was _the_ Moony at school, which was the main reason why we were doing it in the first place."

"I'm still not seeing the **very** difficult part of this project that makes it hard for everyone," Harry said.

"Hmm, well I suppose our group effort did make things easier. However, remember that that can only get you so far. It took us nearly three years of hard graft before we figured it out. We were subconsciously tailoring the three individual rituals to be more in line with each other. You...are on your own."

"Hmm, that's quite heavy stuff Sirius. Got any funny moments in any of that?" Harry said, half-jokingly, still wondering how he could work out his own ritual by the time he was that age. Or if he even wanted to _try_ with that level of apparent risk.

Sirius chuckled to himself, then laughed aloud after about three seconds of recollection.

"Okay, so James had transformed a few times. He had successfully done it on his first peak purge event, but we were still cautious at that point at transforming. This was, what? Part way through fifth year."

"We were trying to figure out what he was. He looked...well he sort of looked like the Stag he was going to be but he was a much darker colour, much smaller and had no antlers at all. The weird things was that is form wasn't quite stabilising as well as mine or that rat's was. He seemed to be unsure somehow. Sometimes there would be streaks of silver and white in his pelt, sometimes he wouldn't be able to convert his clothes back onto himself when he had finished frolicking. The Fat Lady took three weeks to forgive him for bounding up to her naked one night, demanding to be let in."

Sirius sniggered at that point.

"Interestingly enough, he was resigned to spending the whole years as 'Shag-pile' as we called him then, when he...well, he basically saved a twit's life, saved me from prison and stopped Lupin being put down like an animal."

Sirius looked down in shame and Harry swiftly spurred him on with the story, making a note to ask him about that later.

"So any way, it was the darnedest thing...but the next day, there he was. Prongs, king of the forest and all that. A massive, white stage. Made me feel even worse than before. I not only nearly killed my best friend but now my other best friend had a _cooler_ form than me."

Harry sat back, thinking about the mysterious man, then a much younger one, his father had been.

'_Christ, God, whoever is up there. Please don't let me be a bunny rabbit,' _Harry thought desperately, before he began plotting as to exactly how he would be ready and waiting on his sixteenth to take hold of his inner 'animal'.

* * *

_'I know what to do,'_ Lucius Malfoy thought to himself.

For the first time in far too many years he walked with a new found optimism and delight, causing all who knew him well to withdraw from his presence slightly, in order to better protect themselves from whatever scheme he was planning. His slave in particular was removing his disgusting visage from sight far too often these days...but no matter, no matter.

_'Who would have thought something so simple would have confirmed my faith in the old ways? I shall be the great instigator, and shall be heralded when He rises once more.'_

All thanks to a mere dusty diary.

"Luciusss..."


	30. Chapter 30: Rascals

**AEU Chapter 30**

"Come in," Dumbledore said lightly to the oaken door entrance to his office.

"Professor Dumbledore, _Sir_!" a well-groomed man said, bounding into the room as if on springs.

"Ah...Gilderoy," the headmaster said.

The blonde man was jumping around the place looking at everything.

_'Measuring for curtains?' _Dumbledore thought, suppressing a grin at the man's impudence.

"Yes, excellent. _Superb_!" the man said, coming out of his sweep, "I would _love_ to come and teach at Hogwarts! It would be...perhaps not an honour to me but to the school itself it would...well anyway, when can I move in?"

Dumbledore peered over his spectacles at the gushing man before tapping his fingers on the desk absentmindedly. He continued to do so long after Gilderoy became twitchy due to the lack of response.

"I must admit, I find your qualifications to be among the worst, most awfully useless, false and illegitimate of any prospective teacher has come to Hogwarts with, in all her history," Dumbledore said finally, noting the complete unchanging face of the said useless prospective teacher.

He would have been surprised if the man had listened past the first six words.

_'Moron.'_

"I must confess actually, that I was beseeched to ask you to come here tonight by another."

"Really? The students _begged_ for me did they?" Lockhart said proudly, puffing out his chest.

"Not exactly," Dumbledore said merrily, "No, it was actually the DMLE. They want to arrest you on several charges including illegal obliviating, bribery of officials, varying degrees of con-artistry, assault and fixing _popularity_ contests."

Dumbledore looked at the man who had been smiling until the last word. Now he looked like the Bloody Baron had passed through his testicles.

"So I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to give me your wand and calmly be led away," the old mate said, a small part of him hoping that he would put up a fight.

Lockhart did not disappoint.

Screeching at the top of his lungs he leapt up onto the headmaster's desk in an attempt to grapple with him. Dumbledore lazily flicked away the fool's wand before sharply pushing him backwards.

Lockhart hit the marble floor hard and lay there whimpering.

"I'm afraid my safety is at stake and I'm feeling mildly afraid for my life," Dumbledore said gravely.

"I, the invisible man Lockhart can't see and doesn't know is here, concur with Albus Dumbledore's remarks and also admit to fearing for _my_ safety. I have no choice but to use everything at my disposal," Sirius Black's voice sounded throughout the room, originating from a table on which he was perched under the invisibility cloak.

"Kreacher!" Sirius shouted loudly after both he and Dumbledore retreated to his private study door to watch.

"What do you know, the traitorous scab has a Black bone in his body after all," Kreacher muttered as he faded into existence, saucepan and spoon in hand.

Gilderoy whimpered as the mad elf edged closer towards him.

With a battle roar, the ancient elf descended, thwacking the man's knee with the pan whilst ramming the spoon down onto his head.

"Now then...Kreacher will make the foolish one even more senseless..."

* * *

Gilderoy was relieved when the two men eventually gave mercy and threw him into his temporary cell.

"Now, that's what I call a good night's work," Sirius said wiping his hands.

"Hmm, just don't make a habit of this, even if they do deserve it. Remember, you are not an ordinary policeman. If you follow the rules, I imagine you'll have a much better time of it here than your last...attempt," Dumbledore said neutrally, stepping into the fire.

Sirius looked at the ground guiltily for a second before Dumbledore tapped the side of his long, crooked nose, winked and vanished into emerald flames.

Sirius laughed a harsh bark, once before turning around to file the paperwork needed to go with the arrest.

_'Sirius Black, Hit Wizard,' _he mused, '_Yeah, still sounds as sexy as hell.'_

He grinned at the thought until he opened his office door and found the large pile of parchment waiting for him.

This was going to be a long night...

* * *

"Fascinating! Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles, excuse me, nonmagicals have found of getting along without magic," Mr Weasley said yet again to Harry Potter, a boy who was right now wishing he had some very basic children's books he could give to the Weasley patriarch to occupy his attention.

He was a nice enough sort of person, very agreeable to whoever happened to be talking, but not so much that he seemed spineless...though Mrs Weasley challenged that assumption somewhat when she got into a rage which, whilst not often, had such a peculiarly awful intensity that made you believe that a thousand years could go by and your ears would still be ringing with her bellows.

Harry therefor admired the presumably insane twins, who inspired their mother's formidable ire more often than not. They were secure enough in their beliefs and identities to stand up to their mother, to make their own way in the world. Whilst they were not the best of students, the two were ingenious in creating a unique blend of havoc and joy to pretty much everyone in their surroundings.

_'I think they will be great one day, in their own way,' _Harry thought as he saw them dipping apples into various vats of potion they had brewed, each coming out in an attractive red colour that caught the eye and demanded that you sink your teeth into one.

Harry would forgo both these and any apple pies Mrs Weasley made in the next few days..._just in case._

It had been two days since Sirius suddenly decided to start working again. Harry wasn't entirely sure what his godfather had wanted with his father's old cloak but apparently he could find out about it at some trial. The Weasleys meanwhile, had made good on their promises of hospitality and Harry was touched a little at the care and friendship he had received from the large family.

Of course when Harry first arrived, Ron was very awkward about him seeing his house and the rest of his family. The house tour was extremely rushed and it was quite clear that Ron still carried some of his rather deeply ingrained feelings about his and his family's apparent inadequacy, even though he also paradoxically pretty much downright admitted that his family were all either powerful, talented or both.

Excluding _himself_ of course.

"So, you support the _worst_ team in the league, with the worst record, the worst side and the worst name?" Harry said confusedly to Ron when he saw his best friend's room for the first time.

"The name is **not** stupid," Ron retorted.

"I notice you are not refuting any other parts of my statement."

"If by that you mean why am I not defending my team properly, well...they were amazing once and they will be so again one day," Ron said with passion.

"Ah...you like an underdog," Harry said to Ron's immediate protest, grabbing onto the offhand comment and twisting it for all it's worth, "Do I detect some identification between you and them?"

"Well...I guess. They have to live up to impossible expectations when they know they are not as great as the ones who came before-"

"Stop. This is where that breaks down," Harry interrupted Ron's threatening self-deprecation, "The Chudleys are crap. They have heart, I guess, but are talentless and brainless. You are neither. You can outplay seventh year Ravenclaws at chess."

"Yeah but-"

"You can do just as well in class as everyone else, in Charms and Potions you are already proficient."

"Maybe' but-"

"NO. Come on Ron! Yes, you might have struggled before Christmas but you knuckled down and now you're doing really well. So what if I beat you at chess once? You went away for an hour and came back to wipe the floor with me! You might be _intolerably_ lazy at times and enjoy food a little too much but come on mate! You're doing alright. And this is only the beginning!"

Ron had gone through rejection, denial, comprehension and a tiny glimmer of pride through phases of his face, before settling on gratitude when Harry had said his piece.

"Thanks mate. Wow...you really like to speechify don't you?"

"It's a talent, my friend," Harry said with a wave of his hand before settling down on the bed to hear all about the Chudleys Cannons, the _worst_ team to ever exist in the Quidditch League.

* * *

"Did you hear about the Bulgarian national team?" Ron asked excitedly a long time afterwards.

Harry roused himself from his semi-slumber and focused his attention on his friend. He did like Quidditch but Ron nattered on for so long that Harry lost interest and allowed his eyes to glaze over slightly as he recorded the information that he mostly already knew.

"No, what happened?" Harry asked.

"There's some reports about their new Seeker. Bit of a mystery, seemed to have come out of a Bulgarian local pub team, not even a league one..."

"Really? Is he any good?" Harry said, actually interested.

"Supposed to be one of the world's finest, if you listen to the Bulgarian press," Ron snorted, "I'll believe it when I see it. Still, the Eastern Europeans have an advantage in Quidditch. They have enough Muggle free spaces to allow for non-professional teams to play. Easier for scouts to spot talent for the proper teams and the national ones."

"Oh that reminds me. I read about the 'World Cup'. When does that next take place?" Harry said, wondering whether they could organise some sort of holiday or trip to see portions of it if Sirius was game.

"Um, I think the next one is the summer before fourth year. The last one was quite good. Ireland are the defending champions _again_, third time this century...swiped it off the Portuguese at the last moment during the final. Terrific match that one. Not sure what country it's in. They never announce it to the public until the details are ironed out with the ICW, the QA and the Muggles who run whatever country they are holding it in. There's some rumours that it'll be in a Home country though. Why? Do you think you could go?" Ron explained all this with a speed and an excitability that would have impressed Hermione.

"I imagine Sirius could work something out...perhaps we could all go?" Harry speculated, but frowned when he saw his friend's gleeful face drop.

"I'm...not sure that we could af-" Ron began before Harry interceded:

"I'm sure I or Sirius can pay your way. And no, don't worry about cost," he said sharply as Ron looked up in protest, "If they don't give me tickets for free and beg me to come I'd be somewhat surprised. I may not _like_ being the Boy-Who-Lived but I must surely be able to milk some good out of it."

Ron looked conflicted. On the one hand, he seemed sympathetic to Harry being misidentified as something he really wasn't...at least, not yet any way. The boy was not a hero or a superstar. He was his friend, Harry.

On the other hand, Ron was fighting bouts of jealousy and indignation that his friend had so much power and wealth whilst he needed his pity to do anything fun. That side of himself was beaten down however by the much wiser, more honest part that had grown significantly this past year. His friend was without the benefits of family and of normalcy, and here he was willing to give him an invite to a premier sporting event purely because he was a good person.

Ron Weasley was many things, but he wasn't a fool (when he was thinking, anyway).

"Well...let's not worry about that now. Thanks though, Harry. It's a cool idea," he said with a grateful smile.

"Ah, it's fine. If you had a fortune and had the Ministry paying you hand over fist because of their cock-up, I think you would have offered to do the same for me," Harry said.

"I guess you're right," his best friend said, getting up and shifting through some papers ('_nice to see you have a good filing system, mate,' _Harry thought,).

Fred and George burst in unexpectedly and caused what Harry was sure was the uncompleted majority of the holiday homework to cascade from Ron's grasp in a hypnotising artistic waterfall effect.

"Nuts to you guys," he muttered under his breath, his head bent down to pick up the paper meant Harry could see the reddening backs of his ears.

'_Curious little trait that,' _he thought to himself.

"Yeah, yeah little bro, learn to lock your door," George (_'wait...Fred? Damn, they weren't wearing shoes!'_) said dismissively.

The other one (_'seriously, I need to either figure out a distinctive feature or maim one of them to create one,'_) said that tea was nearly ready.

An interesting quirk about the Weasleys was that they called 'Dinner', 'Tea,' even though they didn't actually eat at tea time or drink the stuff.

_'Just as well, it's hardly the greatest drink in the world, no matter what Hermione or Hagrid says.'_

Mrs Weasley was a smashing cook and pursued it with the same enthusiasm, but with far more success, as she did with her knitting. If it was true what they said, Dumbledore was far better on that front.

"Ah, there you are Harry!" she said with a beaming smile when he entered the kitchen.

She said that a lot, as if to reassure herself that the small boy hadn't disintegrated in the short time he was out of her sight, although he supposed that in the Wizarding world that that couldn't be as impossible as everyone would have liked. Mrs Weasley then fixed a steely glare on the twins who descended the stairs after them. Harry had no clue how badly they behaved at home to warrant this level of scrutiny at every encounter, but their mother still fussed over them and worried about them, especially when they were down in the village mucking around.

Molly Weasley was many things but above all she was a fierce mother, and Harry made a mental note to never harm her children if he could help it. He wasn't sure he would survive her wrath.

"Mummy, when are we going to Diagon Alley?" a high-pitched voice said from further back in the kitchen where the boys couldn't see.

"Tomorrow dear," Mrs Weasley said without a hint of exasperation, even though Harry felt sure that very question had been asked twelve times a day for the past week.

Ginny was a small mystery to him, as he had never seen her apart from at the dinner table. It was understandable of course, her being the youngest in a boisterous household but the way she jumped when he looked at her confused him a little. Ron was no help what so ever, rolling his eyes whenever his sister did anything of that nature as though it meant something.

Harry had enjoyed his stay thus far at the Weasleys, and as the settled down for dinner that evening, he felt oddly peaceful. It was a curious thing for him to be so relaxed in so intimate a setting; the family dinner table for him generally meant nothing but just out of reach food and his own despicable relatives than this happy place.

'_I could get used to this,_' Harry thought happily as he accepted a third helping from the gracious Mrs Weasley.

All was well.

* * *

Diagon Alley was still as pretty as his memories indicated. When he stepped out of the...most remarkable fireplace transport system (which he filed away under 'Ask Hermione and Sirius later), he was dazed for a few moments but retained his balance (just) only to nearly fall over again as the rather more uncoordinated Ron fell out behind him.

The sunlight streamed through the bustling street and the shops were full of clamouring buyers and overworked cashiers.

'_I guess magic can't solve everything,' _Harry thought.

"Harry! Harry, look at this broom!" Ron moaned deeply, pulling his friend along to stop at the window of the Quidditch supply shop.

"Nimbus 2001? _Great_..." Harry said dully, irritated that his own broom was now going to be second fiddle to someone else's.

"Are you complaining that you have the _second best broom_ in the world?" Ron said incredulously, causing Harry to feel somewhat ashamed at being so petty, especially in front of Ron.

"Reckon you can convince the Nimbus Company to give you another one for free?" Sirius asked, behind and above them, peering over their shoulders to view the price tag.

Harry pushed down the sudden, irrational fear at having an adult looming over him and thought up quickly of some words he could assemble into a reply.

"I...don't know. I suspect they got a lot of free marketing out of me using their old broom...thought I might have to sign a deal with them this time," he said, giving Sirius an uncertain look.

Black leaned back immediately, mentally kicking himself at intimidating and then seemingly trying to exploit Harry.

"Nah, I think your broom is good for another year," he said scratching the unfamiliar feeling of a clean shaven face.

Being back on the force meant losing a few liberties: along with drinking and shacking up with the ladies of the office, the facial hair had to go too. Mad-Eye wasn't even leading the Aurors anymore but you wouldn't know it from the posters dotted around the walls of the department or the Hit Wizard handbook, enchanted to fire off spells randomly to test reflexes...even at three o' clock in the morning.

"Mr Black, did you play Quidditch?" Ron asked, earning himself a death glare for calling the 'hip-cool' Sirius 'Mr Black'.

"My brother played for Slytherin...Keeper...no wait Seeker, from Fourth Year to Seventh. Prick," Sirius said, mouth curling inward. "I wasn't allowed to play and I didn't want to steal James' thunder anyway, since he was such a delicate little boy about people moving in on 'his' game."

"What, really?" Harry said, amused at the image of a fifteen year old getting in a tantrum over Quidditch.

"Yes...I still played mind you," Sirius said, which caused the two boys to snigger, "You don't think I'd miss a chance to take some swipes at my brother did you?"

Harry chuckled and moved on to Flourish and Blotts, eliciting a groan from the other two

"Shut up," he said, already becoming lost in the forest, (well, not really a forest...small woodland perhaps?) of books.

"Harry, I promise you our library has _everything_ they have...and you've read a good third of that."

"One quarter," Harry said dismissively, "And our library scares me. The floor doesn't sound right."

Sirius nodded along with the Weasley boy's eye rolling at the strange comment whilst simultaneously celebrating on the inside.

_'He called it 'our' library! Merlin's beard, he might actually be starting to accept the idea of 'us'.'_

"These aren't for me anyway, they're for Hermione," Harry said, adding to the three foot tall pile of books as he spoke.

"Ah, getting gifts for the girls, son? Excellent tactic," Sirius joked, earning him two completely blank expressions from the boys, confusion emanating from their eyes.

"What?" They both asked a now awkward looking godfather.

"Erm...ah, you really need to ask your mother about this Ron," he said cleverly, knowing that the boy would rather drop dead than ask his mother anything about anything.

"Sirius?" Harry began sweetly.

'_Aww, shit,'_ Sirius thought.

"You _are_ my mother so..."

"Wait, what?" Sirius nearly shouted, outraged. "I'm not your mother, I'm your cool uncle/godfather!"

"Ha! Yeah, keep telling yourself that, _doggie_," Harry said, rather affectionately.

"Oh come on. You know if it was going to be someone, it would be _Remus_ who would be the mother," Sirius argued desperately.

"Nah, he IS the cool uncle who also happens to..." Harry caught himself and amended, "you know, 'do stuff'."

"I can _so_ 'do stuff'!" and to prove it, he turned into his wolf/dog/grim form.

"Ooooohhhh Mummy! Look at the adorable puppy!" a high pitched voice shouted excitedly.

Ginny Weasley ran into the shop to pet the 'adorable puppy' only to find it much larger than she thought and growling at her brother and

_Oh_...

"No one speaks a word of this..." Sirius Black's voice suddenly said, right where the 'puppy' used to be.

To their credit, Harry and Ron kept their faces straight for a full five seconds before descending to the floor in raucous laughter and streaming tears.

"I momentarily dislike you," Sirius mumbled into his hands, leaning against the door of the shop.

He took off at speed when Mrs Weasley appeared.

"Cheers Ginny," Harry said happily as he rushed out after him, leaving both Hermione's book pile and a still shaking Ron to be confronted by his mother.

_'Oh, truly what a beautiful morning this is!' _Harry mentally shouted as he ran after his ashamed godfather, the sun warming his back and the breeze rustling through his hair.

* * *

It took a very long time for Sirius to calm down and to re-join the Weasleys. They were in for a surprise. For some reason, Mr Weasley was rolling around on the floor with another man.

Harry took in the scene for three seconds before Sirius was picking them both up.

"Hold on now," he said, trying to remain professional and not deprive Malfoy the chance of having another heir.

"This disgrace attacked me in front of witnesses. I want him arrested," Lucius Malfoy said, holding his hand to his split lip whilst eyeing the badge on Sirius' jacket.

He didn't seem to recognise his cousin, which seemed to suggest a concussion to go along with the lip and bruised face, necks and hands. Unfortunately, it looked as if Malfoy had more than enough to go to the officials if he wanted to. Unless...

"Umm, yeah, I'm sure if we go through all the memories of the witnesses here, you'd be the one in the right," Sirius said with a cold glare to the accuser.

This seemed to pacify the white blond haired man very quickly and he left without another word.

_'That was far too easy,'_ Sirius brow frowned as he thought.

"Thanks there, Sirius," Arthur said beaming.

"Next time you want to take him down a peg, do it with a formal duel Arthur. He's pompous enough that he might actually go for it. I doubt this is the last we've heard of this," Sirius sighed.

"Perfect disgrace..._thank heavens Gilderoy Lockhart wasn't here_..." Molly rushed towards them, words falling out incoherently in her rage.

Feeling sorry for the other man, Sirius pacified the incoming explosion.

"I can get you front row seats to an event with him as the star attraction next month," he said quickly.

"Really? What's the occasion?" Molly immediately said, touching her hair on impulse.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Sirius answered, "His trial. He's been a _very_ naught boy. Though you might not know about all that, since his lawyers have blocked the arrest being publicised...not entirely sure how they managed that actually."

A spluttering Mrs Weasley left with her husband and daughter.

"Now then...let's try and avoid any more scenes shall we?" Sirius said in a cheerful voice, seemingly forgetting...or suppressing, the past half hour's events.

"As you say...Sirius," Harry said with a grin.

"We are going to have a talk when we get home, young man," Sirius said, shaking his head at the boy's audacity.

"Yes mother."

'_Damn it!'_


	31. Chapter 31: Going home?

**Disclaimer: You know that massive M slapped at the top of the screen? We are going straight into mature territory now and we're not coming out for the duration. Enjoy!**

**AEU Chapter 31**

The Hanged Man pub was slowly filling with its intake of regulars from the village of Little Hangleton. The smell of alcohol, cigarettes and people emanated from every chair and table in the place. It was, in the owner's opinion, the central hub of village life.

"Usual today, Mike?" the friendly landlord said as the bar filled with orders from other customers, directed at variously skilled bartenders.

"Aye, thank you Sam. Been a hard day's work today, ain't it boys?" Mike said, nodding to his side.

"You got that right, sir," one of the young men said.

Sam filled their usual pints up as they chatted. Mike Wright was a well-liked member of their little community. He was by far the best farmer in the county and looked after his employees as well as he looked after his flock.

"Ahhhh, thanks for that," Mike said when he downed his first glass, smacking his lips together, "Oh, did you see down our road today?"

"No, what about it?" Sam said, leaning back on the wall.

"Council's finally got their act together and started paving the bloody thing. Should be able to actually get the machinery down there now without damaging it."

"That's great," the bartender said, "That road's been in shoddy condition for donkeys years, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, but we're counting our blessings these days. There're few enough as it is..."

"Workers didn't give you no trouble did they?" Sam asked.

"Nah, they was perfect gentlemen," one of the hired hands said, the others nodding along.

"Well, let's hope they're done by Monday, then we can get bring the tractors in ourselves instead of driving them over McGloin's fields!"

Laughter rang out along the bar and continued on well into the night.

* * *

Little Hangleton was a normal, quiet and isolated spot, away for all the bustle and humdrum of city life. According to the people who know such things, it was a quaint little place that truly harkens back to the days of yore.

Any resident would therefore have raised an eyebrow at several dozen people with guns showing up in a quiet country lane along with several odd fellows in wigs and robes.

It was just as well that anyone who would have happened to stroll down the lane would merely take in the not so uncommon presence of several groups of workmen fixing parts of the road. The various farmers who used the road daily were hardly surprised, since the road was constantly in a state of disrepair and there were signs up redirecting traffic at the entrance either side.

None of them could have known that the signs were emitting subtle charms to make everyone feel distinctly less curious at the already common sight, or how the supervisor was actually watching all passers-by with a beady eye to make sure none of them asked questions.

None of these precautions were needed however. The nonmagicals went on their way and the Rakers could get to work.

"Found anything yet?"

"Nothing yet sir. The curse breaker estimates that the wards go several hundred feet down, so we aren't going under. We've found _three_ separate magic traps and _ten_ runes that would kill everyone in the street if set off. All disabled, sir"

"Very good, Captain. Keep looking for the entrance. The professor hasn't found anything on his end yet. It's got to be here somewhere."

"Yes sir, we'll keep at it."

Colonel Hardy swivelled around and made his way past the several groups of 'workers', some of whom were pretending to dig, and others who were wishing that they were. Honestly, he really should be back at base, filing.

Then again, this was the first important operation since the troops were called back in, and he wasn't going to let someone cock it up.

"Nothing over there yet?" Albus Dumbledore said, looking up from his minute examining of the hedgerow.

"No sign of an entrance, just lots of wards and booby traps," Hardy said, looking down into the ditch.

"I'm rather glad you talked me into bringing some help, it would have taken me _weeks_ to covertly figure this all out by myself!" Dumbledore said, a little too cheerfully for a very old man covered in mud.

Hardy kneeled down and dropped his voice a little, "I'm growing concerned. We've already dug up far too many enchantments that could literally kill all of us. We need to readjust how we are going to move through the house."

"Mm," Dumbledore said, suddenly engrossed in a few bent twigs in the dirt.

"I think we need to pull everyone back to a larger parameter and send a few people in. There's no telling what would happen to everyone here if the house itself had defences like this."

"Yes...I've got it!" the old man said, pulling back upright as a silvery glow shot out of the twigs and into the earth, shooting through previously invisible lines that appeared to look like...roots?

"Sir, the wards just deactivated!" Curse breaker Toombes said from a few dozen feet away.

"Right everyone! Fall back to the designated safe zone!" Hardy ordered.

"Housebreaker team one, with me!" Dumbledore said, literally shaking off the dirt to reveal a more form fitting outfit than the one he had just been wearing.

_'Magic_,' Hardy thought as he marched back behind their safety barriers and waited for the all clear signal.

"Alright everyone, please exercise _extreme_ caution and don't wander around," Dumbledore said seriously as the small group cautiously paced up to the now uncovered gap in the hedge that revealed the hovel.

"Jackson, Richards, up front. Clear the path," Toombes ordered.

He was the senior curse breaker on the team of six, whilst five Rakers provided them with fire support, should the occasion arise.

"Sir!" one of them said, almost as soon as they had begun their advance.

The cracked stones that formed a disjointed path were glowing with different colours of red, yellow, blue and green.

"Stay on the green stones," Dumbledore warned after examine the nearest stone closely, "If you stray from them, you will suffer greatly before you die."

"So he's trying to insult the other houses, even in his private safe," muttered Jackson as the group cautiously began moving forwards, with the Raker team in the middle with Dumbledore, and curse breakers scanning ahead and behind as they went.

"Let's hope he's as prideful on the inside of the house as well," Toombes said, agreeing with a nod.

They reached the doorway without incident and halted before it.

"Let me see," Toombes and Dumbledore said together, bumping together as they leaned forwards.

"After you, Professor," the other man inclined respectfully.

Dumbledore murmured what sounded like gibberish whilst running his hands along the wooden door.

"Careful, this is the point at which I imagine Voldemort would spring his-"

But Dumbledore never finished his warning, for the door suddenly sprouted many spear-like shards that thrust towards the gathered professionals. It also shrieked at them loudly in a piercing tone, causing most of the group to stumble back in surprise and in an effort to dodge the spears coming out of the door.

Dumbledore stopped the spears with but a second to spare himself being impaled upon them. Now a flux of hazy blue light warped around all of the shards, holding them frozen in position. He was also stuck in place, holding his wand very close to his chest and sideways, almost perpendicular to himself. The field emanated from all over the wand, forming a string of energy that enveloped the spears and saved his life. If he moved, the spell would break for a second before reattaching.

Everyone else was much relieved at their apparent lack of being impaled. The curse breakers actually grinned and looked around at other members of the group with smiles of relief on their faces.

Unfortunately, two men had fallen from the path and onto the grass.

The group stared at Jackson and Richards for a moment, horror slowly replacing the dumb shock on their faces.

The two men looked back, frozen in surprise and terror.

The ground suddenly erupted violently around them as dozens of roots that looked positively snake-like shot out to ensnare the two helpless curse breakers.

The Rakers reacted quickest, sending a hail of bullets into the roots that were not directly in front of the wizards. However, bullets barely stopped the attackers as they penetrated straight through the two's bodies, causing both to start convulsing as the roots tore apart their insides, screaming in agony.

The other wizards were desperately flinging every spell they could think of in a desperate attempt to save their comrades, tears clouding their vision and rage fuelling their spirits.

The two men suffered horrifically in front of them all for the next ten seconds, the cursed roots taking time to cause the maximum amount of pain before finally, blessedly, the two fell slack, held up only by the many roots coiled in and around them.

Blood was erupting from all over their mangled bodies as the roots twisted and turned to doge the bullets and spells still being fired from those safe on the path. Blood and gore was dripping from their razor sharp tips as they performed their macabre manoeuvre.

The ruined bodies were pulled swiftly under along with the rest of the roots, vanishing from the group's sight as suddenly as they came.

There was silence amongst the men as the adrenalin wore off and the blood stopped pounding through their veins.

It didn't slowly sink in that they had just witnessed murder, it clenched their insides with iron hands.

Only Dumbledore and the Rakers were in full control of their facilities, for of course the headmaster hadn't seen but only heard of these events, having his back to the group at the time. After helping the headmaster force the door back into its normal form, the defeated team carefully made their way back to safety, leaving their former friends behind, buried under the grass.

Rakers immediately swarmed the lane when Dumbledore signalled, scanning for threats for a moment before taking in the despairing tone of the retreating wizard unit and realised they were too late.

Hardy's stare pierced Dumbledore's as both men quietly took in the horror of their surroundings. Both men were quietly thinking about how many more were going to die on both sides to kill the monster that easily destroyed those two young men. Both were inwardly terrified of what it would take to win the war a second time.

'_Dammit_,' Hardy thought as one of the wizards from the squad was violently sick, '_How_ _the hell are we going to do this_?'

* * *

"RONALD WEASLEY! GET UP! WE ARE. GOING. TO. BE. LATE!"

"That's our ride," Ron mumbled sleepily as he rolled over.

Harry rolled his eyes and, placing his arm over his best friend, rolled him onto the floor.

Spluttering, he catapulted himself upwards.

"What the hell was-?"

"Your mother," Harry cut him off.

"Oh..." Ron said quietly before scrambling into clothes as quickly as he could and throwing things around his already messy room with great gusto.

Harry sighed briefly before turning on his heel and ducking out of the room. It was the first of September once again, only this time the day was seeing him in a much better situation. He had been visiting friends throughout his summer, along with bonding with/antagonising his new Uncle Padfoot (they had finally worked out what to call one another affectionately two days before, with Harry being called '_Harry'_). He had been eating and exercising as per Wood's instructions ('"Don't overdo it Harry, but try to put on _some _weight...I don't want a Seeker who is thrown about by a light breeze"').

As the two families, one chaotically large, one so very small and new in comparison made their way to the train station, Harry was content and happy, a welcome new norm for his state of being.

"Now remember Ginny, don't worry about your first year. You'll have your big brothers to look after you and to keep you out of trouble," Mrs Weasley said reassuringly, half to herself and to her only daughter.

Harry hadn't seen much of Ginny until the last time he visited, when he finally figured out a way of getting her out of her room: Quidditch. It was then that he discovered one of the better fliers of the Weasleys (and that was saying a lot).

"Don't worry, Mrs Weasley. She'll be safe with us..." Harry began, before considering that that statement might not be entirely true considering what happened last year.

"Thanks Harry," Ginny said shyly, smiling at him under her hair.

She did that a lot.

"Yes," Mrs Weasley said distractedly.

She had been getting steadily more panicky as the morning went on, and now they were pulling up to the platform (in a dear little blue car no less), she was beginning to lose what little control she had left.

"I say Freddy."

"Yes, brother dear?"

"What a _delight _it will be to have another partner in crime?"

"So true...so true."

The twins laughed until Mrs Weasley turned around and shot a death glare at them.

"Ah..."

"On second thoughts..."

The rest of the car relaxed as the Weasley mother regained her head by shouting at her two miscreant sons.

'Thanks' Harry mouthed to both of them as they winced under the verbal assault.

He was quite sure they meant to do that.

"So remember Harry..." Sirius began when they had loaded a compartment with all their trunks.

"Don't screw around, and more importantly, don't get caught," Harry grinned back.

"Good boy," the older man smiled.

Suddenly, the mood had turned rather sad as both child and adult looked at each other.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Sirius said, breaking eye contact with Harry after it became uncomfortable for him.

He mooched around in his blazer pocket for a minute before pulling out a fifteen by ten hand mirror. Harry saw several runes covering the frame. He recognised none of them as his skills in that area were only developing.

"Two way mirrors," Sirius explained, "I have the other, see."

He pulled out an identical one from his breast pocket.

'_Huh, now I see why he had to pay double for that pocket lining, bigger on the inside..._' Harry thought dryly.

"You just say your password and my name and we can talk."

"Wow, that's cool! Can you demonstrate?" Harry said excitedly.

"Sure," and Sirius whispered close to his mirror before tossing Harry the other one.

"Sup, _pup_?" a miniature, but still irritating Sirius said to him from his outstretched hand.

"Remember the agreement," Harry breathed crossly, "This is a neat little device though. Did you make it?"

"Yeah," Sirius said, deactivating his mirror, "James and I cooked this up at the back of Ancient Runes in third year. Though your little project is impressive too."

Harry touched his glasses briefly with one hand, "Perhaps, but this opens a few new doors if I can figure out what you did."

"You know you can just ask me, right?" Sirius said, a little hurt.

"Yes...but there is value in figuring out things for myself. I assure you, when I want to take up combat magic, you will be the first person I ask," Harry said placating, examining his mirror minutely.

"Well, okay. Oh...try not to misbehave in Remus' class. It's the first solid job he's had in a while and..."

"I understand. And I'm sure he can run rings around any trouble makers."

"Well then..."

And they were back to the awkward silence, standing around watching each other and everyone around them.

"I'll miss you," Sirius said quickly, as if saying it at speed would stave off any embarrassed felt at admitting it.

Harry looked down at the ground for a moment.

"Me too," he said quietly, for once not wholly in control of his tongue as it stuttered the words out.

He was not sure what he expected to happen next.

He wasn't expecting the hug.

And he really didn't expect himself hugging back.


	32. Chapter 32: New Term, New Rules Prt 1

**AEU Chapter 32**

The Sorting Feast was, in Harry's opinion, a rather cruel little stunt to play on children so young. Being sent out one by one in front of the whole school seemed to be one of those old fashioned ideas a man like Vernon Dursley would deem 'character building'. Ginny had, despite the preposterous worrying of both herself and Ron, managed to get herself into Gryffindor. The only other person Harry saw of note was a little blonde girl who was twitching all over the place.

"Ravenclaw," he said in undertone to Fred.

"I bet Hufflepuff. Looks the type."

"You're on."

One thing Harry really liked about Fred was that he was a massive gambling addict. In retrospect, he supposed that wasn't something he really should _like_ about someone, but he did all the same because it was one characteristic he didn't share with his infernally identical brother.

"A-ha," Harry said a few moments later when she went into Ravenclaw, her robes tinting blue at the linings even as she walked towards their table.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up," Fred said grudgingly, "I'll get you one of these days, Potter."

The other boy shrugged and looked away, knowing full well that if he ever wanted to bankrupt the Weasley clan (he couldn't think of a reason why, but it helped to be prepared), Fred Weasley would speed up the process immensely.

"Ron."

_"Ron_!"

"Harry, he's doing it again."

Harry snapped out of his reminiscence, _'Watch yourself there Potter, you spent five minutes gazing at your soup,_' and looked towards his two best friends.

Ah yes, there was Ron, still eating like a demented wild boar with a broken jaw. And there also was Hermione, ruining a book he had bought her trying to stop Ron in any way possible.

"Ron, you know that sausages are made out of the leftover fat, gristle and general waste from a pig carcass, don't you?" Harry said to his friend, causing said friend to gag, choke and then spit out huge chunks of sausage.

"Excellently done Harry. There you are Hermione, bet you don't feel disgusted anymore. Tuck in!" George said gleefully from behind a transfigured napkin umbrella.

"Er, yes..." Harry said quickly to a fuming Hermione, "Probably should have thought that one through..."

"You think?" She said, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I...wait, did your teeth get smaller?" Harry said, distracted from saving himself by a certain lack of large teeth in his friend's mouth.

"Oh I...Er, well I had my front two shrunk down a little a week ago," Hermione said with a nervous little smile.

_'Even, quite bright, _very_ white teeth, less prominent. Yeah, I preferred the old set,'_ Harry thought.

"Do you like it?"

_'Oh dear...LIE POTTER, LIE!'_

"It looks great!"

"Thanks! Mum wasn't so sure so Dad went for ice cream whilst she took me. You should have seen his face when he came back, my teeth shrunk and Mum in full oral health examination mode. The healers looked like they were going to offer her a job there and then," Hermione said, her rushed style of voice a little more coherent now the sounds weren't getting so caught between her fairly previously large front teeth.

"So…they sold on magical dentistry yet?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Not yet sucker, you still have to go for a check-up with my mum some time. She insisted," Hermione said with a smirk.

"Great, great," he mumbled, head tilted towards his lap.

Hermione snickered amusedly into her dinner. She was glad her friend was afraid of something as mundane as a trip to the dentist, it gave her even more hope that under all that ice and messy hair there was a human being.

"Alright, I'll go," he said finally.

"Great! I'll have you in during the break in Half Term.

"One thing though," Harry said raising a hand.

"I know, I know," Hermione said with a smile.

"We have to get Sirius an appointment too."

Across the hall from them, the esteemed headmaster and headmistress were attempting to calm their newest member of staff.

"Remus, don't worry. Everyone remembers you from school, they are not going to demand you leave just because of-"

"But they shall. I know things have gotten better for much of the past twenty years, but I can't see the Ministry or the Prophet taking this lying down," he said worriedly to Minerva.

"Ah, but with Dolores' little _accident_ and with the Prophet under new management, together with the fact that our esteemed Minister has become the man he should be, there is no reason to fear anymore," the headmaster said from behind Minerva.

"I suppose...of course Albus."

"Now remember, there are many safe rooms to bolt to in an emergency, all the teachers and prefects carry syringes of Wolfsbane and Severus can give you the potion every day in the week before the full moon, to ensure you have an ample dose in you when you transform."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"No, thank _you_. I cannot for the life of me wonder what happened to all the DA professors in England but you are one of the best anyway, so Hogwarts is glad to have you," the old man said before he returned to his cheese.

Remus Lupin looked over the hall of his younger years and smiled deeply. He had regained a brother, avenged Lily and James a little bit and best of all, was going to teach their son to be the best he could be.

_'Right then Moony,'_ he thought to himself, _'brace yourself. This should be interesting.'_

* * *

It was blustery in the gathering night of New York City. In the UN headquarters, the six officials had called upon a seventh to join them for the meeting. The well-lit room and comfortable chairs did nothing to hide the cold and darkness of what was being discussed.

"I understand sir."

"I'm sure you do," one of the men behind the meeting table said.

"I assure you, the Raker units will work."

"Everywhere?" A woman said with a raised eyebrow, "Remember, this problem is spreading far and wide. We need a response team everywhere, a new protection for them and for us."

"If all goes according to plan ma'am, there will no longer be a 'them' in one hundred years. We are already seeding heavily populated areas. When the wizards are brought onside, we will have the instructors. When the first generation is born, we will have the numbers. This project will not fail."

"_If_." The man in the centre of the delegation said, letting the word hang in the air.

"Yes, if. And yet, their war is already beginning. Champion Dumbledore has made his move and the Dark Lord is moving again. Soon, it will be over."

"And they will come when we call?" The woman asked.

"What else can they do?" The man in the black suit said, "There will be no one to stop me this time."

* * *

"What the hell _are_ these things?" Ron said as he pulled what appeared to be a disgusting dirt covered baby from a pot.

"You expect plants that live in pots buried in earth to be easy on the eyes?" Hermione said, still annoyed with him about his eating habits.

Well that, and the fact that the Mandrake had bitten two of her fingers already.

"How can we hear each other when-?"

"Magic earmuffs Harry," Hermione answered his question distractedly, whilst bludgeoning her plant with a trowel.

"Seriously, we have magic earmuffs?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I guess?" Ron said as he finally managed to get his Mandrake into the larger pot, alternating between throwing dirt in and punching madly at the horror within.

Harry was still wrestling with his own root when his patience snapped.

"Impedimenta!" he shouted at the plant, causing it to shudder to a stop.

He blinked, that particular spell wasn't supposed to stop things completely, merely slow them down. Shrugging, he levitated it over the pot and dumped it inside.

"Excellent work Mr Potter, ten points to Gryffindor!" Professor Sprout shouted over the class. "Did everyone see that? It's a common but understandable mistake to forget about magic when practising Herbology and indeed, some of the time magic will be of no use to you.

However, never limit yourself just to what your hands can do if you are dealing with a plant that fights back. Imagine how dangerous it would be if you tried doing _that_ to Devil's Snare or any number of things you'll encounter in the next few years."

The class nodded dumbly before cleaning themselves up and packing away.

"Oh no!" Neville said in horror as they trooped towards Transfiguration, "I was good at Herbology because I didn't have to use spells. Now it turns out I do..."

"Neville, you do good because you enjoy it mate," Ron said kindly, "Trust me, you'll do well in it at OWL."

"Thanks Ron but I-"

"Also," Harry interrupted, "you've been improving in Charms for ages now. Think how good you can get just by practising using them in Herbology. Then you'll be enjoying yourself and improving your spell set."

Neville nodded slowly and looked much more cheerful as they walked into McGonagall's classroom.

* * *

"This is impossible," Harry said flatly after fifteen minutes of everyone failing to transform a beetle into a button.

"No argument here," Ron said, his face turning red in concentration.

"Honestly, the instructions are perfectly clear," Hermione started

"What! You haven't managed anything either, _you_-"

"Ron," Harry said quietly.

The tall boy stopped short of himself and breathed out. He dropped his head a little. "Yeah alright," he said, face no longer red from exertion.

Hermione was about to reply when the professor swooped down upon them.

"Now, how are we doing over here?"

She took in the three unchanged beetles and tilted her head slightly. The rest of the class was at least on the way to transfiguring the insect and her two best second years...and Mr Weasley, had hit a wall somewhere.

"Hmm, Mr Potter, what method are you using to transfigure this beetle?"

"Er...the visualisation technique from last year Professor," Harry said, looking into his lap ashamedly.

"And you, Miss Granger?"

"The same, Professor."

"That explains it. Until you are very much more experienced, transfiguring anything as complex as an animal is beyond visualisation. That is why, by the way, those shells from last year were empty. Transfiguring something so complex is hard to visualise and therefor you must use the words to get you to be in the right mind-set to cast."

"But Professor, how does that work, simply speaking the words and making something happen?" Hermione said confusedly, Harry sharing in her bemusement silently.

She pondered a moment before replying, "I think...yes, I think that is the subject of your first Charms class. Anyway...ah, Mr Weasley," the professor said, looking down upon him.

"I was just using the spell and it doesn't seem to be working."

"Perhaps you should all try again, just think of the words and say them out loud together. We shall then see how to proceed," she instructed them.

All three cast their spells as best as they could.

Ron's beetle flicked into a spinning flat circular object that _might_ have been a button for a moment before reverting back to an insect. Harry's seemed to shiver before a whirlpool began at the centre of the beetles' back. The little insect swirled into it before unravelling out into a shiny button that was bottle (or beetle) green. Hermione's attempt skipped the transformation process and proceeded to immediately become a blue button.

"Very good," McGonagall said approvingly. "Your transformation should speed up with practise, Mr Potter. Mr Weasley, your delivery was perfectly satisfactory but you didn't put enough power behind your spell to make it fully change. Transfiguration requires a lot of magic just to cause change for a short amount of time. Permanent change is beyond all of you for now. Oh, and five points to Gryffindor Miss Granger, that was excellently done."

Harry watched his and Hermione's buttons. They were already shaking by themselves and soon reverted back to shape with a little puff of smoke.

"Wicked!" Ron said.

"Perhaps," Harry said quietly.

Hermione's beetle was up and about, flying around.

His had not yet moved from its resting place.

* * *

"What's Lupin like then?" Ron asked at lunch, with his mouth full of course.

"I'm not exactly sure. He was a massive prankster at school with Sirius...oh, and Dad too. He seemed polite and competent whenever we talk about things," Harry answered, preoccupied with his pie.

"I'm looking forward to this year, he's got to be much better than Quirrell was," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, can you imagine _another_ year with a crap DADA teacher?" Ron snorted, covering the table in front of him in crumbs.

"I swear, I am going to learn the Lockjaw jinx this year," Hermione muttered, probably not wishing the other two to hear her.

The fact that Ron was a perfect little gentleman for the rest of lunch indicated that he had.

* * *

"Good afternoon everyone," Professor Lupin began quietly.

The assorted Gryffindors and Ravenclaws gave their assorted greetings in as they settled down.

"Now, who can tell me anything about what you learnt last year?" Lupin said, a slight smile appearing on his lips when hands he recognised shot up.

"Mr Potter?"

"Sir, we learnt about the actions available to someone when they are attacked."

"And they are?"

"First, you can be offensive and strike back to defend yourself against an opponent."

"Good," the professor said, writing that down on the blackboard.

"Second, you can be defensive and doge and shield yourself. There you would be hoping either for the attacker to mess up or for help to arrive."

"Very good, anything else?" Lupin said to the class.

"You can also run or use magic to get away from the fight."

"Excellent, Mr Weasley."

"Or you can avoid the fight altogether by not being there, or by talking your enemy down."

"A valid point, Miss Granger. Anything else?"

The class looked stumped for a while and he was about to begin again when Harry raised his hand.

"Yes Ha-Mr Potter?"

"Sir, you can combine a few or all of these tactics together to protect yourself."

The professor smiled broadly, "And that class, is the underlying strategy wizards have used for centuries. No tactic will work everywhere but by combining a few you should be able to adequately defend yourself and others. Any more than that...well, you'll have to wait for Year 5."

The class chuckled and then buckled down to work. Today they were reviewing the main threats to themselves and others. The majority of the list was made up of beasts, but there were also-

"Centaurs are, above all else, stoic and aloof. They rarely give wizards any thought and that is certainly a good thing; their archery skills are formidable and if you stray into their forests, you would be hard pressed to stay alive if they meant you ill."

Ron was a big help in this lesson. Whilst Harry and Hermione had read and loved Scamander, he had grown up knowing all about dangerous creatures in wizard stories, myths and legends. There were obvious ones like dragons and chimeras that Harry had heard of but a few were very...unusual. The three would have made more progress were it not for their keen eye for detail...

"Sea Serpents obviously aren't a threat on land but if we happened to come across one at _sea_..."

"Why are we at sea, Ron?"

"I dunno, Sirius bought a yacht? Anyway-"

"Why would he buy a yacht? He hates the water."

"Look, it doesn't matter why we are there."

"Be fair Ron, if we were on a fishing boat or a battleship, the way the fight goes would obviously change."

"We're on a fishing boat. Why the heck would we be on a warship?"

"Well why are we on a fishing boat?"

And so on.

"I see you have all compiled excellent lists of threats and responses," Lupin said cheerfully at the end of the hour. "However, there are two threats I would like to draw special attention to. One is the goblin warrior."

An image glowed on the screen of both an armour plated goblin with a rapier and a dagger, and a goblin dressed in modern Kevlar body armour with a gun.

"Goblins are the other sentient race apart from our own that lives in societies like ours. Thus they possess well trained personnel to both guard their important places, like Gringotts, and a fully equipped global army. Goblin magic is less...viable in a fight, so they tend to rely on weapons far more than wizards do."

The image of an adult wizard blared up next.

"And now the most dangerous creature on the planet you are likely to meet. An adult wizard is completely capable of levelling streets filled with people, turning invisible at a moment's notice and teleporting anywhere they wish. If you EVER find yourself in a fight with an adult wizard who has been educated properly, run away as fast as you can. You will be obliterated in a fight."

The class was taken aback at the seriousness of his words, including Harry. Then again, if the professor was correct, this was a deadly serious matter.

"Right, for next week, I want your completed lists of dangerous foes and reasons why they are dangerous, along with at least three bullet points on how to deal with each one. Thank you!"

The class chattered as they went out of the room, rather satisfied about the dramatic increase in quality of their class.

"Not bad Professor," Harry said as the last student went out.

"I thank you Harry, but I thought we decided it was 'Moony' outside of lessons?"

"I'm still in your classroom, sir."

"True," Moony said with a grin. "Did I forget anything you can think of?"

"Umm...I think you forgot to award points but that's about it," Harry answered honestly.

"Argh, House Points!" Moony said, hand going to his forehead.

"Yes...but let's be honest, they aren't the most important thing in the world."

"You're just saying that because you get one hundred points every time you win a Quidditch match."

"...Quite possibly."

Both laughed after that.

* * *

"All in all, not a bad day. Not too shabby."

Ron stared at his best mate as if he had grown a second head.

"Uh, yeah...we just got assigned homework from every teacher! Not short ones either, it could take hours!"

"Uh yeah..." Hermione said, imitating Ron's voice, "We have a week to do most of them and we can do some tonight."

"Ah, now I remember why whenever I read I hear your voice."

"Oh...thank you," Hermione said, grinning slightly.

"That wasn't a compliment. _Ron_!" he said, in a high pitched voice, "_slice your gazelle gizzard lengthways and not sideways. _Blimey, I think I might need counselling."

Dean and Seamus' guffaws nearby were quickly muffled as Hermione dusted off her 'Death Glare' face and pointed it at Ron.

"I'm...going to the lavatory," Harry said, half rising out of his armchair before Hermione whirled around.

"Oh right, why anyone would want MY help. I'm just the miserable old bookworm who gets in the way of everyone's FUN!" and with that she ran upstairs and out of sight.

Silence reigned in the Common Room.

"Oh...crap. Sorry Harry, I didn't mean-" Ron started, going red and looking furious with himself.

"I'm not entirely sure that was all you Ron..." Harry said after a moment. "I mean, you were both joking around and then it got a bit out of hand but still-"

"She's still a bit insecure over this 'friend' malarkey, isn't she?" Fred asked with concern in his voice.

Harry nodded with a bit of a lump in his throat. Hermione _had_ seemed comfortable at his house over summer but...he didn't know. Maybe he was wrong?

_'I am so bad at this stuff,'_ he thought dejectedly.

"Harry, please don't let her stew up there alone," Pavarti said softly, causing both boys to stand up, each slightly ashamed they hadn't earlier.

Looking at each other awkwardly, they then started towards the stairs.

"Wait...you won't be able to go up without a girl holding onto you," George called out from the settee.

"How do you know-never mind, stupid question," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Err...maybe I should stay down here," Ron said, looking uncertainly at the stairs.

"Ah, a true inspiration from our family," Fred said lightly.

"Well I'd much prefer to hold Harry's hand than his," Lavender and Pavarti said simultaneously.

"Oi!"

"It's okay Ron. You'll probably only shout at each other at the moment. Right...er...shall we?" Harry said.

Pavarti and Lavender (for good measure) took his hands and led him upstairs.

"It's probably best if we wait downstairs. Call if you need to come down."

"Thanks girls."

"Any time Harry. _Any_ time," Lavender said smiling, leaving Harry frowning in the direction of the top of the stairs for a moment.

Now...where was Hermione?


	33. Chapter 33: New Term, New rules Part 2

**AEU Chapter 33**

"You know, we've got to stop meeting like this," Harry said through the bathroom door.

He was rewarded with a dry chuckle from the other side that was cut off by a choke in seconds.

"You know he was doing it in good fun right? He just...just..." Harry couldn't think of anything to say.

"He's just my dumb friend Ron,' Hermione finished after a few moments consideration.

Harry paused for a moment. "You realise that he was joking with you? That he was responding to your original comment with his own. It's just banter."

"I guess."

Silence reigned for a full minute.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

Hermione sighed and opened the door. Harry perked up as she appeared and stepped out of her way.

"How did you get up here?"

"Hmm?"

"Boys...it's not allowed-" she began to explain.

"I know Hermione. You're not the only one who has read Hogwarts: A History."

Hermione cringed a little. Despite everything else, she still hadn't gotten past viewing herself as an outsider because she loved books in a room full of Gryffindors. And yet that was so stupid, so arrogant of her to think that when she was supposedly best friends with someone who had _gifted_ her a library.

"So..."

"Pavarti and Lavender helped me up. They seemed quite..._pleased_ to be of service," Harry said with an eyebrow down in an almost frown, highlighting his confusion to Hermione.

"Huh, I bet they did," Hermione said simply before moving into her dorm room.

"This is where you sleep?" Harry asked.

"No, this is where I hide the bodies," Hermione answered with a sinister grin.

"Funny."

"I try."

"You didn't kill Ginny did you? I haven't seen her at meals or in the Common Room."

"Well, I suppose she must be making friends," Hermione said with a frown.

"Well, _I suppose _she must not be eating or sleeping properly," Harry said, turning to face her. "We have to look after her you know."

"You don't have to look out for everyone. It's quite presumptuous of you to be honest."

Harry turned. "Perhaps, but I'd rather you were all safe and happy than not."

"There's more than one way of doing things," Hermione ventured.

"Yes, and this is the one way I'm best at," Harry said shortly, causing Hermione to sigh.

"Yeah, I know," Hermione said softly. "...Are you sure she isn't in her dorm room?"

"It's possible she is. I can't see why she would be cooped up in there in the first week though. They don't give out _that_ much homework..."

The pair moved further up through the tower, going past the third and fifth year rooms before arriving at the first.

"We should probably knock," Hermione whispered.

"Probably," Harry said quietly before flicking the door open with his wand.

Ginny Weasley snapped upwards, flicking a worn book off her desk and onto the floor. Her face was very pale but rapidly turning as flaming has her hair.

"H-H-Harry! Hermione! What is it?" she said in a high pitched voice that lost all volume at its end.

"Um...I honestly was not expecting you in here. Sorry," Harry said, face tinted with embarrassment.

"Honestly Harry, what were you thinking?" Hermione said rolling her eyes behind him. "Sorry about this Ginny, we were just wondering where you were."

"Oh...oh, okay, that's quite alright," the other girl said.

Her eyes were flicking between the intruders and the fallen book. Unfortunately for her, Harry was not so humiliated that he missed this.

"What's that you have there, Ginny?"

"Oh um..." she said, looking at Hermione for help, "It's m-my diary."

"Ah. Right then, come on Harry," the older girl said comprehendingly, grabbing his arm and nodding to Ginny.

"But-"

"No buts Harry, a girl's diary is her own affair. And you are NOT to mention this to Ron," she said lowly with narrowed eyes.

"As you say," Harry said nervously, casting one final curious glance at the scene in front of him before allowing himself to be dragged away.

"She's hiding something," he said as they made their way downstairs.

"Oh honestly..." Hermione said, face palming herself as they walked, "Of course she was hiding something Harry. She was hiding her diary, or trying to at least until you barged in."

"Not my finest hour."

"No. Now, she probably writes all her little secrets, her plans, her dreams and her insecurities down in it."

"Ah..." Harry said knowingly.

"Indeed," Hermione said, nodding at him before they continued downwards.

"What does that mean?" Harry said after a few moments of thought.

"Oh give me strength," she muttered quietly to herself before she pushed Harry against the wall.

"It means you do not go looking for the diary. You do not mention the diary. YOU DO NOT read the diary and above all, you do not tell Ronald about the diary. _Understand_?"

"Um...yes?" Harry said, unsure of how to proceed when your larger friend has you pinned to a wall.

"Good," Hermione said sweetly before sweeping away to the Common Room.

_'Maybe Ron's right,' Harry thought, rubbing his jaw, 'Perhaps she is mental.'_

* * *

Harry wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when he made his way down to Charms the next day. He definitely wasn't expecting Professor Flitwick sitting with his legs crossed on the floor with a large camp fire in front of him.

"Ah, come in, come in!" Professor Flitwick said in his enthusiastic way.

_'Wow, he really does get a kick out of this teacher malarkey doesn't he,' _Harry thought to himself as the class sat in a squashed circle around the blaze.

"Is everyone here?" Flitwick said, trying to peer around the already taller second years, "Very well. To start with, what do we have in front of us?"

The class looked incredulously at their beloved teacher for a second before someone said kindly, "It's a fire sir."

"Very good! Yes! It is a fire. Now," Flitwick said, standing up and pacing around the flames, "What is a fire made up of?"

Hermione's voice, for it was most certainly her, sounded eagerly from Harry's side:  
"The parts that we can see are composed of ignited gases and dust particles, along with the embers from the logs."

"Very good Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor. But what," and at this he peered round to look at the student's faces, "creates the fire?"

"The process of combustion, as I understand it, requires fuel, oxygen and heat to make a fire," Harry said, unsure of where the man was going with all this.

"Aha, and it is here we get to the crux of the matter," Flitwick said, scooping down into a crouch right in front of the blaze.

He held out a tiny and wrinkly hand, "Energy is the really tricky part. Oxygen is, as I'm sure you're aware from Herbology, everywhere and fuel is relatively easy to find. But energy? Where, _how_ do we acquire it? This has been a problem for nonmagicals for millennia but for us, the answer is very simple."

He snapped his fingers and the fire suddenly went out.

"Magic," he said dramatically, straightening up and turning around.

"Feel the logs," he indicated, "touch them."

A rather brave little Hufflepuff did just that.

"It's cold!" he exclaimed loudly.

"Room temperature to be exact," the little professor said smoothly, gliding over to the blackboard.

"Magic is simply the manipulation of energy," he wrote down simply.

The class sat still for a while, trying to fit that thought through their heads. Every one of them had a different reaction. The Muggle-borns and Half-bloods found this to be of extreme importance, since energy and its price in their world was always a hot topic. The Pure-bloods were wondering, not for the first time, how the Muggles accomplished anything without magic. All of them were also wondering how they had the power to do this.

"Professor? How then do wizards and witches use magic?" Hermione asked after a while.

"A good question," Flitwick mused. "And one that is both very simple when you get down to it and very complicated if you think about it. But for now…Some of you may already know about magical cores, yes? As far as we can tell, the Earth has a _very_ strong magical core that produces extremely strong pulses of magic outwards regularly. We, and all other magical creatures, evolved to use this, as birds use the magnetic field to navigate and fish use electromagnetic to hunt. Our power comes from **our** core, which comes from the **main** core."

"How do we specifically make stuff happen?" Harry asked, "How do our spells and our wands allow magic to happen?"

"Well, as you have just seen, it is possible to use neither to achieve what you wish. Magic you see, really require nothing more than two of the three rules: intent and will. If you think of what you desire and will it with enough power, it shall happen."

"This however is very dangerous and it shows in nature. In most species of magical creature, they can consciously perform perhaps three pieces of mental magic. Dragons can fly, they can breathe fire and they can hypnotise with their glare. Nothing else."

In humans however, our advanced brains can do limitless amounts of task but performing magic mentally and without an instrument such as a wand is hard. Many find that beyond simply lighting fires and perhaps apparating, wandless nonverbal magic is impossible."

"So spells and wands focus us?" Ron guessed, a little confused.

"In a way, Mr Weasley. Spells came first. The master would try to describe a thought or an intent in his language and then speak it so that others could learn his craft with greater ease. It's a little more complicated than that but that's for NEWT Arthimancy students."

"Anyway, then wands and other focusing instruments came into being, forged by craftsmen to project magical intent further and with more precision. Wands became the norm because...well, staffs are as good but very unwieldy and rings are temperamental and often become a liability. There are many unanswered questions in magic. Is it really an energy type itself? Is our supply of it unlimited? Where did it originate? We are unsure. Something to think upon then."

The class was left open mouthed by the end by what they had been told.

"_Extraordinary_," Harry murmured, looking at his wand.

"Totally," Ron agreed, eyes unfocused as he stared at the unseen magic core that was even now inside of him.

* * *

"Well?"

"We've combed the castle, searched the grounds and even delved a little into the forest. No sign of the Chamber. No sign of any monsters...well, monsters that shouldn't be here."

"Hmm," Hardy said, glancing down at his file. "If it is a Basilisk, we need to find it and kill it quickly. If the heir can actually control the bloody thing, that means he or she speaks parseltounge."

"Sir?" The young Captain said.

"Basilisks are really easy to make, they are just damn hard to control. If this maniac can then..."

"We might end up fighting a ton of them...Problematic."

"Indeed. Fall out onto patrol then, Jericho. Try to make sure the kids don't see you."

"Yes sir, at once," Captain Jericho said before swivelling out of the room.

"So, you haven't found the fabled monster, there is a plot afoot under your noses you know little about and the one Horcrux you have found is out of your reach."

Hardy turned towards the gravelly-lined voice, "Basically. Got any bright ideas?"

"Seven," the goblin said, "and six of them involve bringing in Humphrey."

"He sounded up to it but knowing him, it's only going to get more complicated when he's directly involved. What's your other plan?""

The goblin smiled.

"Bring back Bartholomew too."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for 20,000 views!**


	34. Chapter 34: The Professionals

**AEU Chapter 34**

The man was leaning against the corridor pillar in a relaxed fashion about two hundred yards in front of Harry. He had been sitting quietly at his desk in the empty library when his attention had been grabbed by the new arrival.

The man's hands swayed to and fro aimlessly and his eyes seemed to be focused on nothing in particular. He was wearing a bandolier slung over his right shoulder to his left hip. The leather band held three very sharp looking knives in a row with a slightly larger dagger underneath them. Harry couldn't see any other details about them but to an amateur blade enthusiast, they were clearly goblin-made throwing knives and a hand dagger. A larger short sword was slung across the back of the man, the scabbard of which impeded the view of the blade but Harry assumed that it too was goblin made. Two holsters hung from the man's belt. On the left side there was a wicked looking revolver and on the other, a very small submachine gun. The man's hands never swayed too far from either weapon, although his left hand moved less, hovering between both knife and gun every few seconds. There were also a pouch and some blocks of metal Harry didn't recognise.

Harry completed his examination of the weapons and took a glance at the armour. Yes, there it was, also dark brown in colour. It certainly looked like leather too but the slight shimmer in the light betrayed it as being enchanted, which almost certainly meant it was a magical creatures hide also, probably dragon. It wrapped quite closely to the well-cut figure from neck to mid-calf, where a pair of moulded boots met it. Attached to the armour were thicker, segmented plates of the 'leather' at the shoulders, knees and spine. A normal tan over-cloak completed the picture and allowed Harry to confirm what he was seeing.

This was standard Raker gear from the last war and the man wearing it was almost certainly the man Sirius had asked him to meet three hours from now in a completely different part of the castle.

'_Well, I guess this is why the library is completely empty...'_ Harry thought with a sigh.

Captain Jericho watched the young boy dip his head back down to continue writing his homework. He was pleased with what he had observed so far. The child had immediately spotted him, adequately covered his examination with covert and ordinary glances and had, from the looks of things, decided he wasn't a threat.

That was his only mistake so far.

Jericho tapped the centre of both of his gloved palms with his third fingers.

Harry blinked as the figure he had been scrutinising vanished into thin air. He frowned for a second before a small smile appeared.

_'Well, I did want to test this out anyway...'_

He brought his index finger and his thumb up to his glasses and, seemingly to adjust the position they were in on his nose, grasped the circular part of the frame. He was in fact, turning it slightly which in turn, activated the rune.

His eyes suddenly had to adjust as his surroundings turned dark blue. A blurry ghostly white figure was edging from the entranceway of the library round to his position.

Looking to impress, Harry fired off a stinging hex straight at the man's chest.

Quick as a flash, the ghostly figure dived in a fast roll to the side before quietly saying "Expelliarmus," at Harry, causing a red jet of light to shoot at him.

Harry dove under the heavy wooden desk he was sitting at, and fired off another stinger.

Unfortunately, the man stood ready this time, lazily flicking away the spell before disarming the shocked young wizard.

"Okay, I think I can work with this," he said with a flash of a grin down to the boy.

"Excuse me?" Harry said confusedly.

"Ah right, explanation. I'm Captain Jericho of Raker Task Force 2. I've been assigned as your bodyguard for the duration."

"The duration? The duration of what?" Harry said, accepting a helpful hand to his feet.

"The duration of the war, boy. This has been approved by-"

"Sirius, Dumbledore and your commanding officer, _right_," Harry said with another sigh.

"Don't look too concerned, I'm also here to train you up so you can defend yourself."

"Why?"

"Well if I do my job properly, you'll either never be in danger or I will be in front of whatever is coming at you. So this is just in case I get killed or something like that. There are other Rakers here, but I'm the only one designated for a specific student. Also...bodyguard work is terrible dull if I do my job properly, and I don't want to get rusty in case things end up going south. So you're training gives me a chance to keep my chipper up too."

Harry and Jericho appraised each other for a moment. Neither was stupid enough to either ask or explain why Harry needed a bodyguard, the answer was obvious to both parties.

"Right then, here's how things will work. You go about your daily life in the castle and I'll keep fairly close by when you walk the corridors. In class, I will monitor the surrounding area whilst you stay inside. At meal times, I will be stationed either at the door to the hall or just around it. I will escort you to and from your common room and leave you there each day. This is a covert assignment and I'd rather not reveal myself until necessary."

"And if we get into trouble?"

"Here in the castle we shouldn't, but intelligence that you yourself picked up tells us otherwise. House Elves make all the food and your room is as secure as can be given the circumstances. Hopefully the basilisk isn't here to attack you specifically, if it is we will remove you from the school until we kill it."

"Can you? Kill it I mean?"

"If it or its master is dumb enough to go outside the building, yes, we can kill it easily. If it starts snooping around inside, it will be a miracle if no one is at least petrified."

"Then why are we all still _here_?" Harry hissed in frustration.

"Listen kid, the first attack will happen fairly soon. If they keep to the same pattern as last time, that means a random Muggle-born will be hit. All the corridors are being watched by ghosts and by portraits-"

"THAT WON'T BE ENOUGH!"

"As I was saying," Jericho said with a glare, "The castle itself is blind to both the chamber and the creature within. No ghost or portrait can see it but will be able to see s_omeone_ being attacked. We have covert units on every floor ready for a call."

"So you're all **gambling** with someone's life? Possible more if it gets away?" Harry shouted angrily.

"We have NOTHING to go to the school board with. As it is, Dumbledore will probably be arrested and we will be kicked out and investigated if our unit is found here by them. No, the basilisk _has_ to die and we _have_ to do this."

He looked at his now fuming charge and sighed.

"Listen, we can probably shadow quite a few Muggle-born students now. It would be an invasion of privacy and probably illegal but-"

"Do it. Anything to keep them safe."

"And that is why we have regs and rules, Mr Potter. Even in situations such as this, we have to stick to most of them."

Harry wasn't budging on this issue yet. He also hadn't missed how his new security kept reverting to nonmagical students as 'Muggle-borns'.

"What if I make a public announcement to the Prophet about what I know?"

"Well, as I've said, we would all get investigated, the conspirators get away and the basilisk stays in the school. In short, critical mission failure. Unacceptable!" Jericho said.

_'Christ, when Black said the kid would be difficult I had no idea-'_

"Alright. But if we haven't got this figured out soon, I'm going to the press."

"I believe Headmaster Dumbledore is shutting the school at Halloween anyway if we don't find anything," Jericho said instead of agreeing.

Harry didn't like that, but decided to carry on.

"Alright...so what are you going to be teaching me?" he asked after a minute of thought.

The captain seemed to be relieved that his charge had cooled down.

"Right, well first off I thought we could have a look at shielding and basic disarming..."

* * *

Duncan raised an eyebrow as the young captain took a seat in the wingback opposite him.

"Well?"

"He'll do it."

"Really? I thought he would object on pure principle," the goblin said in surprise.

"He did sir, then he decided to allow it anyway. Has a good head on his shoulders that one. Even interrupted my mock ambush halfway through!"

"Oh? Do tell."

"I cloaked and he just touched his damn glasses, saw right through me and fired off a shot almost before I could register it. Had to dive out of the way."

The goblin clapped his hands and grinned, showing all forty two pointed teeth, "Oh that's most excellent! A target with a brain hmm? You might actually keep him alive."

"I fully intended to. He fought a verbal battle against a magical soldier loaded with guns over the student body's _safety_. It was _annoying_, but at least he has the balls to do it."

The captain quickly sprang to attention as two men walked in, one of whom was dressed in an identical set of armour as Jericho.

"Yep, that's the boy I was telling you about," that man said mildly, accepting the salute with his own.

"Hmm, I think he deserves watching," the other replied, leaning on the mantel piece. "Now we have you back in, we can get Task Force Three back up to strength. Hardy will be rushing around the country with One, Two is at Hogwarts with the able captain here which leaves you with-"

"Other secret, dangerous stuff. Alright, it could be worse," the armoured man said to the silhouetted figure in front of the fire.

"Well that should be enough to inform The Enlightened that you are all getting your act together," the man replied.

He stood upright, straightened out his creaseless grey suit and then shook his brother's hand warmly.

"Welcome back into the fold, Bartholomew."

Mr Granger smiled back with a shadow of regret in his eyes, "Ah, it's good to be back Humphrey."


	35. Chapter 35: Reconciliation

**AEU Chapter 35**

_Mr Granger smiled back with a hint of regret in his eyes, "Ah, it's good to be back Humphrey."_

* * *

Three days earlier...

* * *

Bartholomew sat looking sharply out of the slightly misted-up window in his office. It was the most underused room in his house, as most of his work was done at his other desk at the college and he simply refused to allow his work life to cross with his home and family.

Unfortunately, the man strolling down the street towards his house looked set to change all of that.

Bart hadn't seen his brother in a very long time, and he wasn't the type to just randomly call in. It had been over twelve years of peace and quiet for Bart Granger.

Humphrey Granger however, was built for war.

'_Shall we walk, or have you finally told them what you were doing?_' the words said, written by an invisible hand on the inside pane of glass in the office window.

The condensation message had barely begun to trickle downward before Bart wiped it quickly away and swept out of the house.

* * *

"What do they want?"

"Ha! I missed you too."

"Now is not the time Humphrey. What do they want?"

"The Enlightened don't _want_ anything. We're actually quite pleased with how well you all seem to be handling the situation."

"What do you mean '_we_'?"

"Tut tut, Mr Granger. Did you really think it was _over_ twelve years ago? That you could go back to your dentistry and get married and live happily ever after? No. As I'm sure Hermione has told you, Voldemort is on the move."

Bringing up his daughter did not help Bart's mood. "Leave her out of this!"

"How can I? How can we? She's in this world now and there's no going back."

"So, what do they **WANT**?" Bart said, finally losing his temper.

"Easy now," Humphrey reassured him, raising his hands slightly. "Whilst _we_ need you not, the Rakers have asked for you."

'_Dammit_!' Bart thought.

He knew what was going to happen now. They would come one by one, all of his old friends. His brothers and his sisters in arms, the finest people he ever knew.

The people he hadn't seen for over a decade for one very good reason.

"I left after the war! You said it was done!"

The tranquil face of his brother looked at him with deep eyes.

"Yes well...everyone can make mistakes-"

"I know I would be making one coming back!"

"Duncan asked for you personally."

"Eff the old bastard, he could probably take on half the Death Eaters himself!"

"Yes, they know. But _we_ also know he would be killed unless you were there taking down the other half. Also...they don't want to have to cull a generation of Slytherin house for blindly following their parents. We hope to stop the war before it starts."

"I...can't. I'm out of shape...I can't take lives again..."

"Have the reasons for fighting changed for you?" Humphrey said, raising his eyebrow.

"Well, it would be more personal this time. I actually _have_ a family to take care of."

"Oh, you wound me little brother."

"Shut it, by the time you were my age you could take down whole hostile cities solo!"

"When you were half my age, you took down an inferi infestation in Ireland with an empty pistol and a broken penknife."

"...Well yes, but can't they find anyone else?"

"Of course. But they want their brother back," Humphrey said quietly. "_I_ want my brother back."

"You were the one who never called."

"I'm not supposed to exist. Indeed, I have not existed for twelve years. The fact you even remember is a _blessing_ that threatens your life daily."

The pair finished their walk round the slightly frosty park lake. The shimmering breath in the air masked what Bart knew to be extremely powerful wards preventing someone from overhearing any of this. Only he could see his brother, everyone else would forget within moments. It was a low key memory charm that was merely for preventative cases...the people he had worked with last time had their minds voluntarily wiped of his existence.

"You must understand Humphrey, I'm not the man I was. I don't know whether I can go back and be a soldier. It's not that I don't appreciate the urgency or the seriousness of the situation but I don't want to get killed doing something I'm not capable anymore, nor be responsible for the deaths of others…again."

'_Oh little brother, I see you continue with this delusion. I wish I could tell you what I see in your mind,_' Humphrey thought. It was time to lay all the cards on the table.

"There's a creature in Hogwarts that's invisible to our sensors, can kill with its eyes and is under the control of Voldemort."

Bartholemuew stared.

"Oh, and the Muggles are going to force the wizards to break the masquerade."

"WHAT! Oh Christ…" Bart sank heavily onto a park bench and held his head in his hands. Humphrey waited patiently. "Alright, so what do you want?"

"Atta boy! Look, I'll guarantee your family's safety and keep your university post held down. How do you feel about pretending to study on sabbatical?"

"…Since that's what _everyone_ on sabbatical does, no problem whatsoever."

"Right then, let's go meet the old boys, get their memories restored and then get back to work."

The two men stopped and grasped hands.

"I'm glad you're back Humphrey," Bartholomew said, "despite everything else."

The other man took a look around and inhaled the autumn air deeply before replying, "Me too old sport, me too! I've not been in Britain for donkey's years."

An altogether different tone crept into his voice.

"It would be a shame to return now only to burn it down."

* * *

"_Bartholomew_?"

"Good god, Barty!"

The pair apparated into the saloon and shocked the gathered officers and men of the three original Raker units into silence, before cheers of welcome rung out.

"Ah hello again, you young whippersnapper, and who's this?" Duncan said from his armchair.

"Hmm, I would quite like to know that as well Bartholomew," Hardy said with a stern expression before softening it and patting his old friend on the back.

"_I see the world, _

_It sings and breathes, _

_Cavorting to all, _

_Controlled by me," _

Humphrey intoned, lightly tapping his cane downwards onto the tiled floor.

A purple haze flared around the gathered people's heads before vanishing. A few people took a step back in shock as years' worth of memories fell back into their true versions.

"Ooooh, you bastard, you," Duncan growled at Humphrey.

"Don't you start anything with me. You all voluntarily accepted the obliviation and you even agreed to the subconscious suggestion to summon '_Humphrey_', a man you knew to be of help but couldn't quite recall."

"Wait...I called someone called Humphrey. I thought he was one of my best officers," Hardy said confusedly.

"Ah yes, another little thing. I wanted you to come to _me_ specifically if the troubles started again instead of the rest of The Enlightened finding out first. That would have been _disastrous_."

The calm explanation set the room slightly more at ease as everyone got used to the new, true memories they had running around in their heads.

"Christ, I knew you people were powerful but seamlessly putting adapted memories into all of us that synchronised with each other and leaving subconscious suggestions? You're a little scary sometimes," Hardy said, only half-jokingly.

"Don't worry. The voluntary bit helped a lot. It would have taken The Enlightened _weeks_ to do it otherwise, and we might as well have killed you all instead."

"Yeah well, guess you didn't," a voice from the crowd said sarcastically.

"Oh yes, because you were still of use. Even then, it was a two to five vote against killing you all."

"Is that why-" and Duncan gestured towards Bartholomew.

"Partly," Bart answered honestly," The Enlightened really, REALLY didn't like the idea of me running around with that much info on them, even before I started learning about the magical world. The fact that I was 'Muggle' made it more manageable...if I were a wizard, they would certainly have killed me."

"They're a hard bunch, 'ain't they?"

"Considering our job description Bradley, that makes perfect sense," Humphrey answered, amused by the entire proceedings. "Just remember, I am one of the milder members. And even then, there are _far_ worse things out there in the dark than us.

* * *

"So you're really going to do this then? Come back to us I mean? What does Alex think?" Hardy asked quietly once the party had moved on to other rooms.

"Thanks Charles, but I think this is still the necessary thing to do," Bartholomew said.

"Still got qualms about it all then?"

"Only reason I didn't join the regular army, old chap." He sighed. "I'm a doctor Charles. I don't want to kill people, even to save others. It's wrong."

"So why are you doing it again? We do need you, but not if you are going to have doubts and this mind-set."

"Listen, I had this mind-set when I first started. I cannot take back what I did but at least I know what I did was _worthwhile_, if not morally right. Having a child though...it straightened my priorities even more. She's _magical_ Charles. I have to protect her from Voldemort, and all his followers," Bart said softly.

Hardy smiled widely, showing his teeth off, "Damn, wish I could have seen the christening. The wedding was nice though."

"I'm sorry none of you were with me these past few years but..."

"I understand. Did Humphrey help you out?"

"Oh I never saw him after that day...you know when. He managed to keep _them_ off my back and get me to a good school...it takes a lot for me to leave it all behind."

"We'll get you back there in one piece. Now go home. Tell your wife everything and give your Hermione a kiss from her godfather, alright?"

"Right," Bart said with a genuine smile.

Walking out of the building into normal rainy London, he took in the scent of normalcy for the last time for god knows how long.

_'This supernatural soliciting, cannot be good, cannot be ill. Too bloody damn right!'_

Humphrey watched his brother trudge away from his position.

He hated to drag him back into this world, but the _world_ had need of him, and his brother's fate was now in jeopardy once again.

Two figures melted out of the shadows. The man in the black suit stepped forward to watch Bartholomew's retreating figure whilst the woman hung back.

"The Horcruxes, foul things, have been resisting destruction. Go to Guardian Dumbledore and offer your aid. Observe the unfinished one too, she is of interest to me."

"I can do that however who is going to-?"

"I'll handle it," the woman said.

"Oh, you've decided to become useful again?" Humphrey said, somewhat surprised.

"Bite me," she snapped.

"I am glad they are accepting you back so easily," the man continued as the other two weren't bickering. "It would have been... difficult to arrange a replacement representative of ours to aid them."

"Hmm, perhaps it's my irrefutable sense of style.

All three smirked at that. They were all wearing the trappings of the high calling of which they had discovered. The black suit had been a tradition since its invention, with only Humphrey wearing a lighter slate version. A good thing too, since in recent years the black cloaks they used to wear were now affiliated with far less savoury characters.

"Very well," Humphrey said again, "I suppose you have some traveling to do."

"Mm. Russia and Germany, both in winter," she pulled a face. "I hate appearing human. I find the form so limiting nowadays. And you have to wear clothes _all_ _the_ _time_."

Humphrey very nearly rolled his eyes at that comment; of the three, he spent the most time in this form and it wasn't so bad. Then again, she was one of the only people in The Enlightened with a sense of humour greater than a small smile now and again.

"Yes, yes. My heart bleeds for you Siri," the other man said impatiently.

"Busy?" Humphrey asked.

"Hmpf, very. The UN still doesn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation."

"We'll figure something out. We always have."

"I hope so." The other man inclined his head and disappeared. The other two looked at each other.

"Is he alright?" Humphrey asked.

"I think so, he's just really irritated at the moment. He's had to be liaising between the ICW, the UN and all the others so much lately," Siri replied, all traces of antagonism gone. "Humphrey…"

"He'll be fine. He's been doing this longer than both of us combined."

"It's so unfair though! There's hundreds of them up there sleeping and we're left to-"

"Siri, I agree with you but let's not have this argument again. We know how it is. Besides, a lot of them can't come here safely, not even the ones who want to."

"I know, sorry. It's this skin. It itches."

Humphrey smirked. "Oh yes? Back in the field and within two hours complaining about being human again?"

"Shut up," she said absently, looking to the side as if watching something else. "It's time."

"Ah, then I won't keep you. Stay safe."

"Always."

* * *

_Present Day..._

* * *

Gregorovitch lay flat on his mud splattered floor, shaking in terror.

"Sorry wand maker, but you are a link in a chain best broken. We certainly do not wish Voldemort to follow it all the way to its end."

"B...but I do not have it!" the old man pleaded.

"We know. We know where it is and where it shall stay. _For now._ You however, are a threat to that aim. You must be _silenced_."

"Please!" Gregorovitch begged, coming up onto his knees.

The man suddenly seized up and fell further onto the floor, all of his muscles contracting and relaxing before lying still. Two tiny connection in his brain had been severed with utmost skill.

"No loose ends," Siri whispered, half to herself, half to the corpse. "Right..."

She glided from the small one room shack and watched it burn to ashes before vanishing into the night air.


	36. Chapter 36: The enemy within

**AEU Chapter 36**

"You got me a bodyguard," Harry said with frown to the mirror.

Sirius had the good grace to look abashed as he replied, "Not my idea."

"I didn't think it would be but you must have given your permission."

"Well, yes but I-have you had any problems with Jericho?" Sirius said hurriedly.

"That is-no. Barely noticed him, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, good," Sirius said, relaxing slightly, "Just forget about his existence _until_ you get into trouble."

"_Until_, not _if_?" Harry said with a smirk.

"Well obviously it would be better if you _didn't_ but this is Hogwarts we are talking about here..."

Harry nodded and the conversation subsided as he reflected on things. The mirror was a nifty little thing that could easily be stretched into a big little thing when desired, as it was now. The semi-permanent sticking rune on the back meant it was easy to attach to a wall; despite the relative coolness of the spell, Harry really couldn't be bothered to continue levitating the device in front of him every time he sat down for a conversation.

"How are things on your end?" Harry asked Sirius eventually.

The man glanced over his shoulder as an unheard voice caught his attention briefly, "Same old, same old. Kreacher tried to _snog_ a pair of my dear father's trousers yesterday when he started clearing out their bedroom."

"Nice."

"Oh, and he went ballistic again when I offhandedly talked about Regulus in passing."

Harry thought for a second. "This is your brother Regulus, yes?"

"Do you know of any other Regulus? Don't answer that. Yep, the little shit started beating himself on the floor once he stopped trying to choke me-that's Kreacher...not Regulus. Anyway, I had to shut him in that den of his again."

"You need to take better care of him," Harry said accusingly, "He's not quite right in the head."

"What, you didn't feel like slapping him when he called Hermione a mud-_thingy_ and Ron a blood traitor?" Sirius shot back, a little offended.

"Maybe...but I didn't do it!" Harry said in a raised voice.

"Alright, alright. I'll go talk with him," Sirius said, holding his hand up. "Go and do your homework or something."

"Righto, goodnight Uncle Padfoot."

"Night Harry."

His godfather's face faded from the screen and Harry allowed his smile to drop.

It had been an awful day.

He had hit a wall in Transfiguration, seemingly having lost his nerve when he killed the beetle that day in class. Both McGonagall and Hermione had been supportive and all but Ron summed it up best.

This year was _harder_, in more ways than one.

Even if he discounted Transfiguration, which he had loved last year, Snape had dropped to near-first term levels of surliness. The rumour going round the staff room was that he was 'overworked' but according to Sirius and Jericho, it was because he was being pressured by certain parties to attend a gathering of his 'old friends', which translated to mean a Death Eater convention. This of course, worried the heck out of everyone and Harry was fairly sure this was the real reason Dumbledore and Sirius made him have an escort at all times.

They couldn't stop Snape in class however and the man was currently eyeing every class he had as a vent for his frustrations. No one dared breathed too loudly anymore, let alone talk or ask questions when he prowled around and so their class and all the others defaulted back to the way they were before Harry in Potions: that is, everyone got worse at it.

Furthermore to add to Harry's woe's was Captain Wood and his ever spiralling descent into madness. If he thought his training regime was bad last year, it was nothing to how gruelling it was now Wood had finally grasped the Quidditch Cup.

Having spent the very early and the very late hours flying around like a mad insect, he then made everyone perform exercises that made Harry _pray_ for his arms to fall off so that he didn't have to do any more push-ups.

After that ordeal, Jericho spent what seemed like the rest of his free time practicing being a good protectee to his bodyguard and a harder victim for an attacker to successfully kill, maim or capture. This above all irritated Harry for whilst he knew the art of dodging, running away and hiding were vital skills, he couldn't help but feel a little weak after his many failed attempts of trying to escape the captain. Worse still, the two spells he had insisted on learning, the disarming and stunning spells respectively, took so much concentration and effort for him to cast that Harry was ending every day exhausted and with a pounding headache that seemed to suffuse into even his dreams.

_'Ah well_,' he thought to himself after taking his glasses off and getting into bed after another week of abuse, '_At least it can't get any worse.'_

* * *

The Headmaster's office was normally a place of quiet contemplation and solitude. However, tonight that couldn't be further from the truth. Since Albus Dumbledore had stumbled into the room and collapsed into his chair, robes and beard soaked and muddy, the place had filled with voices and people.

"Three minutes! It took him _three_ minutes!"

"Well at least the Goblins figured out a way to destroy it cleanly."

"What a wretched night."

"_Three_ _minutes!"_

A knock at the door ended the chatter as Dumbledore indicated to the person to enter.

"Headmaster, Commander, gentlemen," Jericho saluted smoothly to Hardy before turning to Dumbledore.

"Anything?"

"Nothing sir. No suspicious activity of note near Mr Potter or in the Common Room that I have seen."

The headmaster nodded gravely before he began contemplating. So where what was the meaning of the recent Death Eater activity?

_'I'm sure Lucius is involved somehow, only he or Bellatrix could call upon so many, including Snape. Since she is still in Azkaban...'_

"Right, so we have located, captured and destroyed one Horcrux but we now know the Death Eaters are on the move and that this Chamber will be opening up?" Hardy asked the room at large.

"Basically," said Humphrey, the only person in the room apart from Jericho who was mud free. He was currently examining Fawkes with something approaching awe.

"I still don't understand how a network of rooms comprising a chamber can be hidden from us," Jericho said.

"Well, Slytherin was a tricky, sticky wizard, typical of his kind really. It is probable that he found a way to circumvent the wards he co-designed," Duncan explained to the still standing Jericho.

* * *

The fragment awoke from its half-slumber to a silent dormitory. It quickly summoned its little thrall and began instigating the second stage of its plan.

* * *

"Are you still absolutely sure Voldemort didn't place one here, Albus?" Duncan said as the collective group brainstormed new locations over and over again, hunched over a map.

"There are only two opportunities in which he would have been able to do so, and I doubt he would have left one behind when he was still a student. He wouldn't have trusted his own defences back then to be strong enough," Dumbledore replied, though he didn't look convinced himself.

A musical '_ding_' diverted attention away from the desk as a silver instrument stilled to a stop.

"Ah, it's done," Dumbledore said, walking over.

"What is?" Hardy asked.

"My analysis of Voldemort's spirit fragment from when it passed through all those examination runes last Christmas. Hopefully we can use this to use in a detector-"

"That can find similar magical signatures and therefore, his other soul fragments. Brilliant," Humphrey said quietly, with an approving nod.

"Yes well, Duncan here commissioned this little device," Dumbledore said, waving his hand towards an almost identical looking silvery object that seemed to be akin to a very small compass.

"How do Goblins tell these things apart...and why do you _always_ use silver?" Jericho said.

"What else would we build them out of?" Duncan said with a short laugh before looking pointedly at Dumbledore, "And we tend to _label_ our devices."

"Oh? I find it is much more pleasing to simply engage in random selection or to give it its proper name, _calculatus eliminatus_," Dumbledore responded, waving away the comment without stopping with his tinkering. "Ah, here we go..."

The little compass flickered for a second before lazily twirling its hand around and around very slowly a few times before stopping completely.

Everyone stared blankly at it.

"Yeah...that's incredibly unhelpful," Jericho said after a minute's silence.

* * *

The girl was standing over its most _loathed_ enemy. Very soon now its revenge would be at hand, the night before the anniversary of the failure at Godric's Hollow. A quickly sent little whisper, a tiny niggle through her mind and Harry Potter was in its power at last!

* * *

"It's no good," Humphrey said after a few minutes examination with the detector in his hands, "It needs more power and more focus to show us anything here, Voldemort's presence still lingers over this place like a bad smell."

"Ooh lovely," Duncan said sarcastically. He was becoming annoyed with the goblin-made device's refusal to operate properly.

"Try tying it into the wards," a helpful past headmaster said from the wall.

"Hmm? Oh, good idea Jeffrey," Dumbledore said absentmindedly, grabbing the detector and murmuring quietly.

The room's air began shifting in different directions, seemingly at random to all but to Humphrey, who could see and feel the wards beginning to envelope the device. He carefully watched the various ancient magics envelope the compass before he tapped the headmaster on the shoulder. "That should do it."

Dumbledore nodding and lifted his wand to activate the device again.

There was silence as the device flickered again into life.

Then it sounded with a screech that shattered the windows before a wave of magical energy burst from within its core that caused all the other devices in the room to explode and the whole assembly to be knocked hard onto the floor.

* * *

Lucius didn't even acknowledge the other thrall as the ancient door shuddered open. He too was caught in the grasp of the fragment of his lord and master. Now, he followed on as the greatest of Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes pulled Harry Potter into the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

Humphrey and Dumbledore recovered first, only to pale as they saw the detector twitch from two positions with a two being displayed in the centre.

Duncan groaned as he slowly got up, rubbing his head with one hand, "What the-"

Dumbledore swept past him and leant out of the window.

The school wards had turned the night sky blood red in warning.

The Chamber was open again.


	37. Chapter 37: Inside the Chamber

**Disclaimer: If you didn't think this story was M before, it just might cross over now...just so you know.**

**AEU Chapter 37**

Harry was cold.

Despite having lived for over a year in Scotland, he hadn't felt _this_ cold since that night on the hill. He was pretty sure the ground hadn't been as wet then though.

_'Wait...why am I on the ground?'_ Harry thought blearily as he shook off his sleep, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

He wasn't where he should be, in his comfortable bed, but rather on some hard, cool surface in a very dark place. Suddenly he snapped his eyes open wider and whirled his body around to face a soft hissing sound.

The darkness surrounded him like a stifling blanket, though from what he could see of the floor made it look as if it were tiled and, this might have been a trick of the darkness, appeared to be emitting a faint ghastly green sheen.

"Creepy," he muttered, his tiny voice echoing around and around wherever he was.

_'So, it's a big place then. Great.'_

The hissing grew louder, morphing into a kind of chuckle as it made its way to Harry's ears.

"Ssso, you do not like my great ancessstor'sss chamber, Potter?" A cool and rhythmical voice asked from outside Harry's vision.

"Well it's a bit dark for me to fully appreciate it," Harry ventured bravely, trying to make build some sort of bravado up even though his knees were knocking.

If he truly _was_ in the Chamber of Secrets, he was probably going to die fairly soon. And if that voice was who he thought it was, it was probably going to be excruciatingly painful.

"Ah, my apologiesss. I forget, you mortalsss need light to sssee," the voice said, its condescending tone echoing round and round, making Harry's head spin slightly as he tried to keep track of where it was coming from.

Flames licked upwards from their torches and light flickered across Harry's face. He was in a large cylindrical chamber. Its curved sides were lined with identical tiles as on the floor, giving the whole place a slightly green hue that only made the sight Harry saw at the end of the Chamber more terrifying.

There was...a figure standing there, over a pile of shivering black robes. If it was a ghost then it was out of focus, for the spectral form lacked both detail and depth. It also did not glow with the ghostly white of the dead but with a similar sickly green to its surroundings. The head was the strangest feature of it as the nose didn't seem to exist, nor was there any hair on its head.

"Harry Potter..." the figure said, "Ssso, we meet at lassst."

"Oh...I'm sorry, I thought I was talking with Voldemort. Who are you?"

"His passst," the stranger hissed, "But I ssshall outdo myself when it comesss to the future."

Harry was extremely puzzled by all of this. Or at least, he would be if he weren't fighting the desire to panic. It was not at all like his last adventure, where he had been guarded by Aurors, the Minister and Dumbledore. No, this time he was on his own, trapped in a room, specifically the chamber no one had managed to find in nearly one thousand years of searching...with Voldemort.

_'Shit,' _Harry thought, mentally swearing for one of the only times in his life thus far.

"Right..." Harry's mind drew a blank. What exactly did one say to a homicidal maniac? "So, about your plans for the present?" he asked, figuring that the bad guy would at least give a speech first before he did whatever evil thing he was going to do.

"I ssshall make do with killing you," the spirit said quietly but with great pleasure, his smile clear even from where Harry was standing.

"You look...young," Harry said as the figure became increasingly more solid looking.

"Ah yess," the figure said, "I was the firsst I think, in a long line, a line _too_ long if you assk me."

"Oh I see. You're the first Horcrux," Harry blurted out.

The fragment scowled, "It is not encouraging that you know of uss but then again, I expect nothing less from the lesser oness."

"Lesser ones?" Harry asked.

"I am a full half of mysself. The others are sso _limited_ in themsselvess that they can barely be called ssentient. And the original? Ha! He is but the weakesst of us all."

"Wait, you believe yourself to be inferior...to yourself?" Harry asked incredulously. Despite the dangerous peril he was currently in, he couldn't help but smile at that.

"SILENCE," the fragment bellowed, raising his arm as if to force him to comply magically, only to glance at the upraised hand and withdrawing it in apparent annoyance.

'_No magic yet huh? Interesting..._' Harry quickly noted.

The spectral figure was now almost completely normal looking, with Harry even seeing the Hogwarts crest on the sixteen/seventeen year old-ish boy's robes.

"So you killed that Muggle-Born, you petrified those people, you caused all of...this?" Harry began quietly but was nearly shouting at the end.

The Horcrux chuckled briefly back at him, "Yes, and to think, my deformed lesser self with less than _half_ of his mind and powers forced this country to kneel before him. Imagine what I shall do when I pick up where he left off. My servant has already gathered a little greeting force and soon I shall once more be the greatest wizard in the world."

The sight of Draco's father appearing smirking at his master's side sent Harry into a rage.

"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IS THE GREATEST WIZARD IN THE WORLD!"

Silence reigned after the echoes had stopped sounding his proclamation.

"Dumbledore, the fool who believes in the good of people? Dumbledore, the coward who cannot kill, not even to defend his own principles or to defend others?" Voldemort whispered quietly, slowly stepping forward towards Harry.

"Dumbledore, the man who cannot protect one innocent, _stupid_ little girl in his own school?" Voldemort sneered as he waved towards the robes that Harry now realised with a horrible sinking in his stomach looked a lot like a certain witch's frayed second hand clothes. He could even see a bit of bright red hair poking out of the fold.

"He protected Hogwarts from you before and he'll do it again!" Harry said desperately, trying to will with all his heart that it was true.

Voldemort's replying scoff was cut short as the most beautiful music filled the air. Both turned to see the Fawkes the Phoenix flew swiftly through the chamber, dodging Malfoy's fired spell and dropping the Sorting Hat into Harry's hands.

All three humans looked in disbelief at the frayed old relic before the laughter began again.

"So, this is what Dumbledore sends his great champion? Very well, since you have committed the discourtesy of bringing out weapons to our confrontation, I must take _pains_ to bring out some of my own," Voldemort said, smiling slightly at Harry.

Then his dark eyes grew cold.

"Make no mistake about this Potter. I am not my insane forebear. You will _die_ tonight, your corpse shall be turned to ash and then I shall disappear, till the time is right for me to take over this pathetic country. The only reason you are still alive is because I want you to _suffer_ and _suffer_. This is not because you diminished my other self nor for what you represent, but because _I can_. I shall torture you, make you watch as poor sweet Ginny Weasley dies and then I shall burn you. Or...perhaps I shall allow my great patron to help me once more..."

Voldemort ended his approximation by sweeping away towards a giant stone statue of a bearded wizard. Harry swayed on his feet, the fact that the man in front of him was not only greater than the threat he had faced before but had talked about his upcoming torture and murder so calmly shook him to his core. No matter what the fragment believed, here was the very definition of insanity.

_"Ssspeak to me Ssslytherin, greatessst of Hogwart'sss four!"_

The loud command reverberated across the tiles to where Harry stood before the entire chamber shook. As dust that had gathered over fifty years of rest was shaken out of its crannies, the mouth of the statue opened and a-

But Harry never saw what happened next for in that moment, his body was suddenly experiencing the most unbelievable agony. The child didn't even register falling to the floor as the pain tore into his mind, finding every pressure point, every weakness of not just his physical, but mental being and making him hurt for all of them. In mere seconds, Harry was beyond screaming in agony, the breath catching in his throat as his brain began to overstimulate itself. Bright spots showed beneath his shut eyelids and a hoarse scream escaped his lungs. It hurt to scream.

In that moment, to exist was to be in pain.

Then it vanished as quickly as it came, so abrupt in its departure yet Harry was barely conscious and not at all in control of any of his functions.

"I never claimed I would fight fair, Harry Potter," Voldemort said silkily.

Voldemort? Oh it was almost certainly _him_ now. He may have lost his hiss and the inhuman features as he became an avatar of his younger self, but either the madness was never buried very far in or he had already become utterly evil by the time this Horcrux was made.

"No answer, Potter? No snide remark, no daring comment? How _pitiful_," Voldemort said downwards to the shivering body.

"Do you wish to know the greatest joy, Harry Potter? The wonderful thought I am having, right at this very moment?"

Harry could barely lift his face up to shake his head.

"No? I am not yet back fully. That was my thrall Lucius performing that torture upon you. Imagine how it shall feel when I shall begin with you?" He said with a gleam in his eyes Harry took to mean was great anticipation.

It was at this point that Harry Potter realised he was finished. There was no way he or Ginny were going to get out of this place alive. Voldemort would come back and would return _stronger_ than he had ever been before with an unsuspecting Ministry searching in all the wrong places for him.

The finality of his thoughts gave way to the first sob before tears were streaming down his face and onto the hard floor. He hated himself, he hated the man above him for bringing him so low so easily. For trying to make him beg for a quick death...and Harry was going to _beg_. There was no way he could trick himself into thinking he could take another dosage of that curse, particularly if it was aimed at him by the more powerful wizard. He had no plan and no desire to fight. It had taken one, **ONE** bought of pain to bring him onto his knees before a genocidal maniac. Shame flooded his mind before Fawkes' song took to the air again.

"Let the bird sing! It shall be the last pleasure you will know, Potter!" Voldemort said, turning his back on his fallen enemy and stalking towards the Basilisk.

_"Hear me great ssserpent! Devour the boy!"_

On a normal day, Harry would have fled back up along the Chamber by now, his instincts and adrenalin giving the extra push needed to outrun the threat before him. But his brain was in shock from the pain and Harry merely look down at the stone floor as the words were spoken that sounded his doom.

Fawkes on the other hand, had other ideas. Giving a great cry, he alighted down upon the Basilisk's head and began tearing great strips off of it. His cry and the sudden action snapped Harry somewhat out of his stupor and he looked around dazedly. He saw the elder Malfoy raise his wand to presumably kill his saving grace and Harry noticed for the first time that his wand wasn't on his person.

_'Only one thing for it then,' _he thought even as he performed the entirely mad manoeuvre of catapulted into the wizard, sending both of them tumbling.

His Seeker eyes caught sight of the single wand rolling along the damp bottom of the chamber.

Malfoy saw it too but for all of his advantages over Harry, he certainly wasn't as fast as a wiry eleven year old with his life on the line.

Harry spun around with the new wand in his grasp, aiming it straight at Malfoy's chest and keeping it there.

The blood was pounding in his veins and the noise of the battle between the two creatures faded into the background as his rage piled on against the two men in the room. His ears filled with the sound of his heart pumping and his eyes narrowed into slits as he glared at an older version of Draco.

"I'm curious Potter," Voldemort said, turning away from the ongoing fight which he had previously watched with mild interest, "What now? You certainly do not have the power to contain the Basilisk. Will you kill it then? Will you kill _him_, my slave? Or even me, when I finally return after the death of Ginny here?"

"Shut up," Harry said quietly, knuckles white against the unfamiliar wand that was still currently pointed at its previous owner.

"You know he has a son don't you? Oh what a day it is when the orphan creates another."

"SHUT UP!" Harry yelled, his fury boiling over and actually releasing pent up magical energy around him, knocking Malfoy back a little as he redoubled his grip and tried to correct his shaking arm.

Fawkes was performing admirably against the Basilisk whom had already lost one eye and the use of its nose, or at least that's what Harry assumed from the quick glance he risked to look up at that fight.

'_But perhaps there is something I can do._'

"LUMOS MAXIMA!" he roared at the creature's head, remembering the charm any avid nocturnal book lover worth their salt would know.

The serpent did not take kindly to having its one remaining eye bombarded with a brilliant white light. It reared up in pain, smacking its skull against the ceiling, causing the chamber to shake and the tile covering lining the roof to crack.

* * *

The seven instruments Dumbledore had striven to repair first had been scanning with all their might in trying to find the Chamber. Suddenly three little dials leapt upwards as if they had been electrocuted.

"There! The Chamber's secrecy enchantments have been damaged! We have a location!" Dumbledore said, pointing towards a football sized glass dome which was rapidly filling with pink steam. The compass began alternating between two points and still showing a two on the dial. Fawkes had for some reason left on an errand of his own, and thus left only house elves as a fast way to get around the castle.

The gathered staff of Hogwarts and the commanders of the Raker units breathed a sigh of relief before listening to Hardy and Dumbledore's urgent instructions.

* * *

Fawkes had done his job well and Harry was scrambling to meet up with him in the middle of the room. He looked over his shoulder as he ran with regret.

The creature was blind and confused now. It was a pitiful sight but Harry knew this wounded animal really did have to die for the school to be safe. Still, the Basilisk was known for its tough hide and as Harry looked at the bright toxic green scales, he could only think, _'now what?'_

The miraculous bird apparently had some ideas about that too, as he dropped the Sorting Hat into Harry's hands again before alighting down over Ginny's head and flying the girl as close to the side wall as possible. He then seemed to stay there and watch over her. Glancing at Voldemort and his thrall, only to see one looking on helplessly but with murder in his eyes and the other picking himself off the floor, Harry jammed the hat onto his head.

_'Help me, please!' _he mentally screamed.

_'Not so loud boy,' _a gruff voice said in his ear, and then, more gently, _'Help will _always_ be given at Hogwarts.'_

A heavy object suddenly thudded onto his head, causing him to jerk backwards in surprise and the hat to fall off his head.

A bright silver sword fell out of it and dropped onto the tiles.

Harry's momentary mental whoop when he cast his eyes upon the deadly looking weapon died quickly in his throat when he saw that the noise had been enough for the Basilisk to snap back from its stupor.

This time, the swear word was verbal and far worse than the previous one.

* * *

Jericho and twenty other brown clad figures cracked into existence on the corridor closest to the bathroom and quickly began barrelling towards it at high speed, each quietly thankful that the students were secure and asleep in their dormitories. The men were too focused to be surprised at the many statues and suits of armour and Hogwarts clattering to life and moving towards the walls, the main gates and the House dormitories.

Humphrey and Dumbledore had just entered the bathroom the Chamber was under and were snooping around the sinks looking for any signs of the activation point or perhaps a keyhole of some kind.

"Not good," Humphrey said, lightly tapping a snake engraved tap, "Looks like a Parsletounge seal, although I could be wrong. That type of magic is most uncommon. I don't think we're-"

His eyes widened as Dumbledore violently raised his wand and brought it down like a hammer. Jericho entered to find a sizeable hole in the floor and a man with an irritated expression brushing the rubble off of his suit.

'I wonder if today can get any _worse_?' he mused before remembering his mission.

* * *

'_Right then, here we go._'

Harry had always hated the running aspect of Oliver's training the most out of everything he had to do. Now he was fairly sure that so long as he wasn't being chased by a massive, blind and enraged snake in a rather dark room, he could live with whatever his captain came up with.

'Live' being the key word here.

After first picking up the heavy blade and swiping wildly at the lunging Basilisk, managing to pierce its side as he did so, Harry found himself in the dangerous position of fighting a wounded and cornered animal with a weapon he had never used before. To sum up how well that went...well, now he was running.

"Stop him!" Voldemort presumably ordered his minion.

_'Ha! What's Malfoy going to do without his-'_

Harry's muscles all lost control of themselves as the pain returned in agonising amounts. The Basilisk overshot, missing him by inches as he crumpled to the floor, mouth open in silent scream for the curse was even worse this time, rendering him mute from it all.

Harry's wand lifted and granted its former wielded some respite as Malfoy grinned savagely at him. The pair of kidnappers had obviously been smart enough to take Harry's wand off him.

"Now, now Potter, stop running away. Take it like a _Gryffindor_," Voldemort mocked from his end of the chamber.

_'For someone who said he was above the super villainy of the other Voldemort, he sure does seem content just to watch his elaborate killing device work,'_ Harry thought in an attempt to distract himself from his burning thighs and his raw throat.

It wasn't really working very well.

Too late he realised that he was running towards the welcoming arms of the Horcrux and his lackey. His sloppy disarming spell only managed to ensure that Malfoy would have to physically ensnare him. The wands and sword fell with a clatter to the ground as the two bodies collided. Desperately, Harry kicked and screamed, punched and pummelled at every bit of flesh that he could see even as the man's robes blocked out the dim lights of the chamber.

"You worthless slave! Retrieve the weapons, fool!" Voldemort shouted in exasperation.

Malfoy obediently dropped the boy from his clutches and turned away to pick up Harry's wand.

This proved to be a fatal mistake.

Spotting the man's back and still filled with the rage, fear and panic of that brief fight, Harry reacted, shoving Malfoy forwards with all of his strength,

Straight into the maws of the Basilisk.

* * *

That noise...that was what Harry would remember years later, when his night terrors awoke him from his sleep. That _guttural_ gurgling sound the dying body made when the semi-mad Basilisk finally released it from its mouth.

The blood came after, after the whole area under the statue had been painted with it. Its sound too remained with him ever after, the fast flow becoming a slow trickle before shrinking to a grotesque dripping that oozed towards Harry.

Malfoy was dead no more than two seconds before Voldemort began laughing. And here came the final part to the soundtrack of his nightmares, the laugh of the insane murder _welcoming_ him into his exclusive club.

* * *

The boy who had just caused all of that to happen however, drank in the scene for only a moment before fleeing from it, whisking up the sword that twinkled on the ground and climbing the great statue of Slytherin himself.

"Never mind the corpse, creature. Kill the boy now!"

The voice below him only increased Harry's mad scramble to reach the top of the stone man. The Basilisk had to raise itself to its full height to follow his path up through touch and sound alone. Harry was ready this time however, and as the mighty head strewn with its own drying blood appeared over the top of the statue, he lunched, stroking it under its jaw and tearing straight through its throat. The effort nearly tore his limbs from their sockets and as it was, caused the sword to be wrenched from his hands, so embedded it was within the creature as it thrashed around dying.

* * *

Sometimes Harry would have a different dream in which he repeatedly attacked the Basilisk, it shrugging off all blows until he pierced its throat as he had originally, leaving him trapped in a torrent of blood as the life erupted out of the creature, its screams deafening him as he fell into darkness.

* * *

"Well then Mr Potter," a voice above his left ear said.

Harry groaned as he tried to push himself off the floor, only to be rammed back into it by an unseen force directed onto his back.

"Alas, Mr Potter, I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that," Voldemort said, imitating Dumbledore's soft tone.

_'Wait, Voldemort did that? But...that would mean...'_

He was roughly levitated and flipped over onto his back.

Lord Voldemort towered above him, holding two wands in his hands and a smirk on his face.

"It seems that...you lost."


	38. Chapter 38: Disaster

**AEU Chapter 38**

Voldemort was back.

That thought reverberated around Harry's cranium until it deafened him to all other inputs. It was such an impossible, unbelievable occurrence that, even though he had known deep down since he first saw the spectre, he was still shocked by it actually happening.

"Ah well then Mr Potter, it seems we have reached the point where we must part ways. I merely awoke you to inform you of my return and so I can watch the light leave your eyes when I kill you."

Voldemort was _enjoying_ this. The man was oozing self-confidence and control as he looked languidly down at the boy. This, Harry thought, was his doom, finally come to collect, the past eleven years a mere trifling of defiance in the face of inevitability. The man still wasn't taking any chances however, Harry has been tightly bound by a vine-like substance.

"Nothing? A shame Potter, you disappoint me. Your father always had such cutting remarks to fire back at me instead of spells. Foolish, indeed. Your mother of course, I tried not to kill but she was extremely determined to do so. A shame that, I'm sure Severus would have loved to have his way with her-"

"Silence, you half-baked fiend. How dare you darken Hogwarts yet again with your presence."

Harry saw Voldemort's mouth clamp into a thin line before his face moved out of sight as he straightened up and looked around.

"And what do we have here-?"

His speechifying was cut off again as a hail of bullets and three spells thundered towards him. The Dark Lord sighed in irritation and swiped his hand around carelessly, diverting all put one of the spells and all of the bullets into the floor. The remaining spell he deflected into Harry.

The boy screeched as his right arm shattered into five pieces.

Fortunately, Voldemort was already being pressed back by bullets and spells fired from Harry's would-be rescuers. The Rakers weren't letting up or wiling to allow the enemy breathing room and time to think. Jericho, Humphrey and two others detached from the main group and ran towards Harry, who had somehow dragged himself a little on the way to where Fawkes and Ginny lay.

"Easy there Harry," one of the men said calmly, as if trying to reassure a frightened animal to lie still, casting a spell to make his patient fall asleep.

Jericho erected a shield around the two medics so they could work in relative peace as the chamber continued to erupt in violence and loud noises, pausing only every few seconds as the firefight flitted in between columns and shadows.

"Why isn't the phoenix over here helping us?" the medic healing Harry's head downwards shouted over the din.

Fawkes seemed quite preoccupied enough to even bother answering that question with a trill or a reproachful glare, as he was currently hunched over Ginny's open mouth, weeping bitterly into her open mouth in a desperate attempt to keep her heart going.

Humphrey, seeing what he was doing and the energy trails curling around the discarded diary and the reborn Voldemort, quickly sent the other medic to stabilise her whilst he grabbed the diary.

'_Yes...his first one. Crude but perhaps even more deadly because of it. Well, at least this is the toughest version of him we'll fight,_' he thought as the situation around them continued to deteriorate. Humphrey grabbed one of the girl's arms and willed here to remain alive, trying to purge as much of the dark magic out of her body as possible.

Dumbledore, the greatest power the Wizarding world had seen in many a year, was none the less far past his prime and out of practise when it came to duelling anyone near his level in skill or power. Then again, Voldemort had to contend not just with him but with both magical and mundane Rakers. Had the Basilisk or Malfoy survived, the battle might have gone a different way but when Humphrey sprang in to seemingly fight too Voldemort knew he had to retreat or be captured.

"_Ssslytherin, your work liesss dessspoiled. Bring down upon the unworthy your might!"_ Lord Voldemort screamed in a hissing, piercing tongue.

The Chamber of Secrets crumpled instantly, pillars folded and statues shattered as the walls caved in and the ceiling fell.

"Shields up!" a command rang out.

Many magical barriers of varying bright colours burst out of wands to meet with the falling derbies, catching and holding it in place above the heads of the Rakers.

"Dammit, we can't let him get away!" Jericho snarled, frustrated at his target's departure.

"He won't," Humphrey and Dumbledore said simultaneously, transfiguring the rock and rubble into statues and figures which they then animated.

Shaking off the dust still pouring down from the now vast hole in the castle's foundations, the group then split in two, with the majority storming after Voldemort down a narrow side passage that had been revealed through all the destruction whilst the medics and Jericho stayed with Harry and Ginny.

It was at this point that Harry woke up.

"...Oh. Did that all happen then?" the boy said from his resting place on the ground.

"Yeah...sorry about that," Jericho said simply, taking in the partially bruised forms of the blond man and the creature.

_'That kid killed both of them?'_ he silently questioned himself.

"I...is Ginny okay?"

When no one answered for a moment Harry's face fell even further, causing one of the medics to quickly reply, "She's in a bit of a rough spot at the moment Mr Potter. You'll both be alright when we get you to the hospital wing though."

None of the four people currently conscious quite believed that however, since Fawkes had still not stopped his ministration and Voldemort was still at large.

"That book, you have to destroy it," Harry said suddenly.

"What?" Jericho answered, raising the boy up slightly in a half sitting position.

"Voldemort had a book, her..._his_ diary. He used it to come back."

"Don't censor yourself kid, we're all Rakers here. Is it a Horcrux?"

"Yes...or, I think so. Voldemort said it was when I asked him."

Jericho raised a hand to his face and held it there for a second. So the maniac _was_ back then, this wasn't some trick or other force.

_'We just started this hunt for those blasted things, and the second one we find restores itself? This is NOT good.'_

"But...it's empty now, right?" one of the medics said uncertainly, glancing over at the plain black book like it was going to suddenly attack him.

"Don't know," Jericho said, "Doesn't matter. We have to wreck it anyway, right?"

"Right."

The captain nodded and made to stand up but quickly knelt back down again when he saw Harry's pale complexion and glazed over eyes.

"Hey! Stay focused son. Don't doze off on us now, it's just getting interesting."

Jericho knew that stopping Harry from either going into shock or thinking about the events of this night were temporary measures but he really didn't want to be the only person there when it happened that Harry actually knew.

"Listen, you know about these things right? All that studying you do? Read anything about killing them?" he asked now, trying to stimulate a response, even though he possessed the means to destroy the book already.

"Erm..." Harry's mind was foggy and his recent memories were..._no, no, that wasn't him was it?_

"Harry?" the man prompted again, the two young medics deciding to devote themselves fully to fixing Ginny now rather than have Fawkes nip their fingers again.

"Oh sorry," Harry said, shaking his head slightly, causing a burst of pain to run through him. "Oh...ow, that's sore. Er, that's not really a Horcrux anymore but..." he tailed off.

"Go on, what do you know?" Jericho urged, getting up and picking the diary up.

"You have to put it beyond magical repair. So, I don't know. Fiendfyre I guess? Uncle Padfoot's family developed that spell extensively for this sort of thing."

"Well, there's that but this room is fragile enough as it is," Jericho attempted a joke.

Harry smiled slightly then turned to the other two adults.

"Is she okay?"

"...She's alive," one said after thirty seconds of deliberation.

The other was a bit more positive, "I think we can move both of you now. Captain, could you...?"

"Of course," Jericho said, taking out a bulky but small pistol that looked as if its barrel had been squashed against the handle. A bright and dazzlingly light shot out of the gun and blinded the all for a minute. The diary was obliterated when their vision returned but Jericho still insisted on scooping up the empty vessel's ashes into a midnight blue bag before levitating Harry up, which earned him a scowl from the boy and led him out through the way they came.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"Gift from Father Christmas," Jericho said distractedly.

Harry didn't have the energy to snark back and so just kept trying to stay awake.

The party reached the bottom of a large pipe, its wall's slick and slimy from years of usage.

"Umm, so is there another way up or..."

Jericho looked down at him, "Just because you got hit on the head does not mean you have to start acting stupid boy. Magic, remember?"

At his words, he flicked his wand and a set of spiral stairs burst from the sides of the pipe, leading up from the darkness to bright light at the top.

* * *

"Aww hell!"

The Raker squad collectively dived in all directions to avoid another huge rock being thrown at them.

The chase through the tunnels had been disgusting and horrible, dredging through centuries of sewage and muck at speed had made Raker Unit 2's uniforms...well, a darker brown than before.

Following that, the restored Dark Lord had seen fit to trap the entrance, which led out into the forest, with a caterwauling charm, which caught all kinds of monsters' attentions.

It turned out that three trolls and a Cockatrice had banded together in the newly formed Let's-eat-humans club and now the wizard and non-magical soldiers were fighting hard to stay alive.

"We have to go," Humphrey said, grabbing Dumbledore's arm.

The old man soberly looked around at the brave souls fighting around him and then back at the frowning man in front before nodding. The animated stone warriors were helping them out and it was feasible that most of them would survive but...that didn't excuse the fact he would be abandoning them here..._for the greater good_.

_'I thought I was finished with this,'_ he thought sadly.

"Rakers, cover us. We're going after him!" Humphrey ordered before hurrying away, following the energy stream that was rapidly decaying in visibility to his senses, meaning either the Horcrux container, the girl or Voldemort himself had just died.

It probably wasn't the latter.

* * *

Voldemort stood above the sleeping village and for the first time in his short existence, felt...unsure. He had no real plan, no real identity other than that of the memories and abilities of a demented madman whom had created him by accident and unknowingly made himself far weaker over the years since.

Why on earth should he willingly become Lord Voldemort?

But he was, wasn't he? That was all that he was, that was the whole point of the Horcrux.

It had worked. He was alive again...or was it rather he had created new life? Because Voldemort didn't see the past memories he had of the former wizard to be particularly appealing. Clearly, the man, and now he too because of it, was a deeply troubled individual, a coward and a fool of the highest order. His predecessor, himself before he was himself, had had the wizarding world in his grasp with naught but an old man and his bunch of lunatic followers to oppose him. And yet the world was not beaten. His old self made unacceptable errors and fatal flaws in judgment that the new...thing, was quite repulsed by its creator, of sorts anyway.

What should he do? What to do, what to do?

Should he announce himself to the sleeping village or simply leave and build his strength? Stand and fight the school staff as they pursued him? He supposed it did not matter in the long run, since that meddling old fool was sure to tell everyone he was back anyway, spoiling the surprise, however he knew the original Lord Voldemort would have...no, he was Voldemort.

Wasn't he?

A burst of burning irrational rage filled his mind, overpowering his own new thoughts as what remained a significantly large part of his thought process; that of the Horcrux designed to restore itself to Lord Voldemort in full, forced its way into his deliberations. The figure reeled and nearly fell as he experienced pain for both the first time, and the first in a long time. Disorientated and somewhat confused, the Horcrux creation turned to flee into the night till his mind settled one way or another.

And then a voice filled his inner ear before pouring into his mind and ensuring his body into its thrall.

_'Then again, returning to life then celebrating with a bang will sound much better than being chased from a boarding school by an eighty year old man and his toy soldiers,'_ the Dark Lord reasoned before looking down at the strip of wood in his hand.

_'This is a magnificent wand Potter. I'm sure it was wasted with you.'_

* * *

They were flying, fast enough that the ground became a blur beneath them, as they sped towards the castle boundary.

'_Can you locate him?_' Dumbledore mentally asked.

'Yes...just about. We have to hurry if we want to apparate to him though,' Humphrey replied, before concentrating on avoiding the branches and brambles that marked the edge of the forest. Soon they would see the wall and once over that, they could resume their fight with Voldemort.

The pair alighted softly on the grass just before the gate before swiftly passing through. A faint orange glow was visible in the distance in the valley below, emanating up from beneath the thick tree line.

"Strange, it's several hours till dawn," Humphrey said confusedly.

Dumbledore however paled and stopped cold. He had seen such a glow before, fifty or more years ago and yet still burned into his memories, into his nightmares.

"No..." he murmured faintly to himself in horror.

"Hogsmeade. He's cast _Fiendfyre_ in Hogsmeade."


	39. Chapter 39: The coming of War

**AEU **Chapter 40****

"Alright, how are we going to handle this?"

Sirius' question created a sense of unease through both Jericho and Mr Granger as they all thought of the boy in the hospital bed.

What does one say to a twelve year old that had just been tortured?

"He might not be...very coherent when he comes round," Jericho reiterated a point that had been hammered into all of them by both Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore whenever they came in to check up on the patients. Not that he needed to be reminded. For his mundane military training he had gone through intimidation and interrogation twice, and for Rakers a third time.

"Hopefully Miss Weasley, Ron and Hermione will be here when he does, I'm not so sure I can calm him down myself," Sirius said, wiping his palms on his already damp jacket.

"Kid seems to have excellent timing. I'm sure he can wait thirty minutes," Jericho said, accepting a towel and water bowl from an exhausted Bartholomew whom had just finished cleaning himself.

At that moment Harry began to stir in his bed.

"Guess not...Madam Pomfrey!" Jericho sighed before all three shouted out to the matronly nurse in her office.

"Oh, what is it now?" Pomfrey said in a huff, "Typical of him to sleep off that potion twenty minutes before he should have done."

She checked his temperature and his various healing injuries before standing back and activating the medical bindings that securely strapped the boy to the bed.

"Who deactivated these? Sirius!"

The man balked under the accusatory glare before being saved by Harry's eye's flickering open and his sudden gasp of pain.

"Hey, it's alright, don't panic Harry," Sirius said, in a soothing tone whilst reaching out to grasp one of his hands.

"...I...am in the hospital wing," Harry stated, a little confusedly.

"Yes, you were injured and we brought you here," Jericho said at the end of Harry's bed.

A pause as the boy considered this.

"...Is Ginny-"

"Fine dear boy, fine. As far as I'm aware, she's due back from her parent's house in a few minutes. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go and get Hermione and Ron, they've been quite worried about you," Mr Granger said quietly, leaving before the boy had time to recognise him.

Harry stared after him dazedly for few moments before slowly turning back to the other three adults.

"My arm feels funny," he managed to say before attempting to lean over the side of the bed.

Madam Pomfrey quickly realised his intentions and conjured a pail out of thin air for his use. Sirius winced as his godson repeatedly, and clearly painfully, hurled into the bucket for a while until his stomach was empty.

"This arm?" She indicated and he nodded. "Your arm was one of your more severe injuries. I vanished the bones in it and re-grew them, and while they shall function perfectly they are not an exact copy of the ones you had before. I had to carefully shrink and enlarge certain areas and reposition them so that you can continue to grow without problems later on. You are going to need to be in regular check-up sessions for the rest of the term so I can monitor this. The other one was just snapped in half."

Harry should have immediately processed this information and be ready with a thousand questions for the nurse about his arms, this healing magic and his other injuries. Instead he gave a bleak nod and blankly stared at a piece of wall carefully chosen as to be able to not look at either Sirius or Jericho.

"It's been three days since you got here and most of you has been fixed now," Sirius said after it was clear Harry wasn't going to be speaking again.

"The Basilisk has been obliterated as per the international dark creature agreement, the Chamber itself has been gone over with a fine tooth comb by Dumbledore and myself personally, and as for Lucius Malfoy-"

But Jericho had to stop because even Professor Binns would have noticed the change in Harry's composure. Before he was a blank slate, devoid of any spark or sense within him. Then he flinched horribly when the man's name was brought up before screwing up his eyes and clenching his teeth.

Jericho realised that if his hands were not bound they would be around his head and that Potter was reliving the Cruciatus curse they had found placed up him multiple times.

"Harry! Listen to me! Listen! Focus on me," Sirius demanded.

The boy unwillingly opened his eyes and stared at his godfather's.

"Good, keep at it. Empty your mind."

The shaking visibly decreased.

"I can't put him back to sleep in this condition now, it'll case too much damage," Madam Pomfrey whispered in an undertone to Sirius.

"Harry, it's okay. You got out, Ginny got-"

"Harry!"

A girl's yell sounded through the Hospital wing as the red head flung herself at Harry, sobbing unrelentingly.

"See? Completely...fine," Sirius said uncertainly as the girl continued to sob buckets onto a now bemused Harry.

"Oh god, it's all my fault! I should never have kept that diary-"

"It would have only meant Voldemort's diary would be free within the school. He already had Malfoy and his cronies on his side before coming here or so I gather."

"But-"

Her protestations were interrupted by the door opening again to reveal Ron and Hermione.

"Harry!" both yelled in relief when they saw him sitting upright, before they took in a crying Ginny and the sick bucket on the sideboard.

"How are you?" Hermione ventured when they were closer.

"Hmm, I was just about to ask the same young man," Madam Pomfrey said, clearly concerned not just about Harry's injuries but the amount of people asking him questions the moment he came to.

"Okay, I guess," Harry rasped, looking for and then accepting a glass of water from Jericho with a grateful look.

"Apart from nausea and your arm, do you feel anything else?" Pomfrey asked, releasing, raising and softly turning his arm slightly to examine it.

"I feel sleepy. Sluggish. I can't think...very well. Every time I think about-"

Harry tailed off as he shrieked in sudden agony and wrenched his arm out of her grasp to cover his head.

"Harry!" three children yelled out in union.

The three adults looked helplessly at them all as the boy continued to with around for a few moments before ceasing all motion.

Sirius stooped his head and lowered his voice, "That is phase two of the Cruciatus curse. Remembering the event it was cast upon you causes a shadow of its pain, usually at least for a few days after casting. Phase three is that breaking down and recovery."

"Why didn't you just keep him asleep for the next _week_ then?" Ron said, quiet yet still angry.

"Because to get over this curse you have to _confront_ those memories directly over and over again, deliberately hurting yourself in the process. A certain amount of energy has been placed in Harry that is powering this part of the spell. If he doesn't chip away at it until it's all gone, it goes off all at once in his head like a time bomb. I _never_ want to see the aftermath of that again," Jericho said darkly.

Standard Raker practice for that occurrence was euthanasia, for the victim either became a drooling vegetable or force or trapped within their minds, constantly feeling the curse over and over again.

The group lapsed into a miserable silence, as all realised that Harry was going to have to be hurt again repeatedly to secure his wellbeing. Ron and Hermione now had a far greater understanding of why this curse in particular was unforgivable. All others became lost in their thoughts.

'_So it was Malfoy that did it. Well thank heaven for small mercies,_' Jericho thought grimly, knowing that had Voldemort himself done the deed, there would be little they could do to salvage Harry's mind.

"He looks better than he did at breakfast," Hermione said after a while.

It was true. Harry's blotched red and black bruises had all but vanished, the smell of blood and death had left him and both he and Ginny looked slightly better fed, though in Harry's case it had been through the use of medical fluids.

Ron nodded in agreement, remembering with a wince what he had seen just days before. Behind him, Sirius' brow was knotted in a glare as he thought through Harry's injuries.

"Hermione, where's Mr Granger gone?" he asked casually.

Jericho's eyes snapped to his and narrowed slightly.

"Dad said he was popping out to look into 'stuff', Dumbledore knows about it though so don't worry," Hermione replied distractedly, since she was already simultaneously holding Harry's hand and comforting Ginny.

"I'll be right back," Sirius said quickly before all but sprinting out of his chair.

"He didn't make the third step on second landing stairs before a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Are you kidding me? The kid is going through repeated _mind torture_ and you're going off to-"

"I am a Hit-Wizard and I'm going to provide support to Bartholomew and the Rakers, if they're going where I think they are," Sirius snapped back hotly.

"What happened the last time you tried doing something like this? Oh wait, you went to _Azkaban_, you pillock! You're staying here."

Sirius took a deep breath and stepped back onto the landing.

"...Fine. I just hope that-"

"They aren't going to get away with this, I promise you. I'll go, if you like," Jericho said with a reassuring smile.

Sirius looked at him darkly and then said, "You can't go. You're protecting Harry, _like you should have been doing that night!_"

Jericho's eyes flashed and he turned slightly in his place. The two men were now squaring up to each other.

"I thought I made it clear I wasn't-"

"YOU WEREN'T **THERE, **DOING **YOUR** JOB!"

"Gentlemen," Albus Dumbledore's soft tone cut through the argument like butter.

Both deflated in nanoseconds and turned towards the headmaster's voice.

"Captain, go upstairs and watch over Harry," Albus said with a tone of command.

"Yes sir," Jericho said immediately before vanishing up the steps to the Hospital Wing.

The headmaster now turned his gaze to a dishevelled-looking Black.

"Albus I..."

"There is only one person you have done wrong by today Sirius and I am not him. Right now however, you need to go contact your colleagues and inform Madam Bones of the current situation. Her department needs the confidence boost a successful first raid can provide and the Rakers need their support. Also...Cornelius is deflecting questions about certain incidents at Hogwarts now Hogsmeade has been reported to death but we really need the media to latch into something _else_ right now."

Sirius looked at him confusedly, "And what do I do when I report in? She'll probably want _me_ to go with them."

Albus looked at him, "Well, that's your decision. We are at war now after all. You are needed, as are we all. Sacrifices have to be made but _never_ try and give up more than you can live with. If I may however, I would advise you to not base your answer off of revenge. In my opinion, it is and always has been the most worthless cause. Now I must go and see what I can do to help young Mr Potter through this. Good day Sirius," and with that he too swept upstairs to join the gathering around Harry's bed.

Sirius leant heavily onto the wall behind him.

"Shit," he said quietly before turning to go.

Dumbledore said, and he agreed, that revenge was not the way to go about this.

That did not mean he wasn't going to enjoy storming Malfoy Manor.


	40. Chapter 40: The Unforgivable

**AEU **Chapter 40****

"Alright, how are we going to handle this?"

Sirius' question created a sense of unease through both Jericho and Mr Granger as they all thought of the boy in the hospital bed.

What does one say to a twelve year old that had just been tortured?

"He might not be...very coherent when he comes round," Jericho reiterated a point that had been hammered into all of them by both Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore whenever they came in to check up on the patients. Not that he needed to be reminded. For his mundane military training he had gone through intimidation and interrogation twice, and for Rakers a third time.

"Hopefully Miss Weasley, Ron and Hermione will be here when he does, I'm not so sure I can calm him down myself," Sirius said, wiping his palms on his already damp jacket.

"Kid seems to have excellent timing. I'm sure he can wait thirty minutes," Jericho said, accepting a towel and water bowl from an exhausted Bartholomew whom had just finished cleaning himself.

At that moment Harry began to stir in his bed.

"Guess not...Madam Pomfrey!" Jericho sighed before all three shouted out to the matronly nurse in her office.

"Oh, what is it now?" Pomfrey said in a huff, "Typical of him to sleep off that potion twenty minutes before he should have done."

She checked his temperature and his various healing injuries before standing back and activating the medical bindings that securely strapped the boy to the bed.

"Who deactivated these? Sirius!"

The man balked under the accusatory glare before being saved by Harry's eye's flickering open and his sudden gasp of pain.

"Hey, it's alright, don't panic Harry," Sirius said, in a soothing tone whilst reaching out to grasp one of his hands.

"...I...am in the hospital wing," Harry stated, a little confusedly.

"Yes, you were injured and we brought you here," Jericho said at the end of Harry's bed.

A pause as the boy considered this.

"...Is Ginny-"

"Fine dear boy, fine. As far as I'm aware, she's due back from her parent's house in a few minutes. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go and get Hermione and Ron, they've been quite worried about you," Mr Granger said quietly, leaving before the boy had time to recognise him.

Harry stared after him dazedly for few moments before slowly turning back to the other three adults.

"My arm feels funny," he managed to say before attempting to lean over the side of the bed.

Madam Pomfrey quickly realised his intentions and conjured a pail out of thin air for his use. Sirius winced as his godson repeatedly, and clearly painfully, hurled into the bucket for a while until his stomach was empty.

"This arm?" She indicated and he nodded. "Your arm was one of your more severe injuries. I vanished the bones in it and re-grew them, and while they shall function perfectly they are not an exact copy of the ones you had before. I had to carefully shrink and enlarge certain areas and reposition them so that you can continue to grow without problems later on. You are going to need to be in regular check-up sessions for the rest of the term so I can monitor this. The other one was just snapped in half."

Harry should have immediately processed this information and be ready with a thousand questions for the nurse about his arms, this healing magic and his other injuries. Instead he gave a bleak nod and blankly stared at a piece of wall carefully chosen as to be able to not look at either Sirius or Jericho.

"It's been three days since you got here and most of you has been fixed now," Sirius said after it was clear Harry wasn't going to be speaking again.

"The Basilisk has been obliterated as per the international dark creature agreement, the Chamber itself has been gone over with a fine tooth comb by Dumbledore and myself personally, and as for Lucius Malfoy-"

But Jericho had to stop because even Professor Binns would have noticed the change in Harry's composure. Before he was a blank slate, devoid of any spark or sense within him. Then he flinched horribly when the man's name was brought up before screwing up his eyes and clenching his teeth.

Jericho realised that if his hands were not bound they would be around his head and that Potter was reliving the Cruciatus curse they had found placed up him multiple times.

"Harry! Listen to me! Listen! Focus on me," Sirius demanded.

The boy unwillingly opened his eyes and stared at his godfather's.

"Good, keep at it. Empty your mind."

The shaking visibly decreased.

"I can't put him back to sleep in this condition now, it'll case too much damage," Madam Pomfrey whispered in an undertone to Sirius.

"Harry, it's okay. You got out, Ginny got-"

"Harry!"

A girl's yell sounded through the Hospital wing as the red head flung herself at Harry, sobbing unrelentingly.

"See? Completely...fine," Sirius said uncertainly as the girl continued to sob buckets onto a now bemused Harry.

"Oh god, it's all my fault! I should never have kept that diary-"

"It would have only meant Voldemort's diary would be free within the school. He already had Malfoy and his cronies on his side before coming here or so I gather."

"But-"

Her protestations were interrupted by the door opening again to reveal Ron and Hermione.

"Harry!" both yelled in relief when they saw him sitting upright, before they took in a crying Ginny and the sick bucket on the sideboard.

"How are you?" Hermione ventured when they were closer.

"Hmm, I was just about to ask the same young man," Madam Pomfrey said, clearly concerned not just about Harry's injuries but the amount of people asking him questions the moment he came to.

"Okay, I guess," Harry rasped, looking for and then accepting a glass of water from Jericho with a grateful look.

"Apart from nausea and your arm, do you feel anything else?" Pomfrey asked, releasing, raising and softly turning his arm slightly to examine it.

"I feel sleepy. Sluggish. I can't think...very well. Every time I think about-"

Harry tailed off as he shrieked in sudden agony and wrenched his arm out of her grasp to cover his head.

"Harry!" three children yelled out in union.

The three adults looked helplessly at them all as the boy continued to with around for a few moments before ceasing all motion.

Sirius stooped his head and lowered his voice, "That is phase two of the Cruciatus curse. Remembering the event it was cast upon you causes a shadow of its pain, usually at least for a few days after casting. Phase three is that breaking down and recovery."

"Why didn't you just keep him asleep for the next _week_ then?" Ron said, quiet yet still angry.

"Because to get over this curse you have to _confront_ those memories directly over and over again, deliberately hurting yourself in the process. A certain amount of energy has been placed in Harry that is powering this part of the spell. If he doesn't chip away at it until it's all gone, it goes off all at once in his head like a time bomb. I _never_ want to see the aftermath of that again," Jericho said darkly.

Standard Raker practice for that occurrence was euthanasia, for the victim either became a drooling vegetable or force or trapped within their minds, constantly feeling the curse over and over again.

The group lapsed into a miserable silence, as all realised that Harry was going to have to be hurt again repeatedly to secure his wellbeing. Ron and Hermione now had a far greater understanding of why this curse in particular was unforgivable. All others became lost in their thoughts.

'_So it was Malfoy that did it. Well thank heaven for small mercies,_' Jericho thought grimly, knowing that had Voldemort himself done the deed, there would be little they could do to salvage Harry's mind.

"He looks better than he did at breakfast," Hermione said after a while.

It was true. Harry's blotched red and black bruises had all but vanished, the smell of blood and death had left him and both he and Ginny looked slightly better fed, though in Harry's case it had been through the use of medical fluids.

Ron nodded in agreement, remembering with a wince what he had seen just days before. Behind him, Sirius' brow was knotted in a glare as he thought through Harry's injuries.

"Hermione, where's Mr Granger gone?" he asked casually.

Jericho's eyes snapped to his and narrowed slightly.

"Dad said he was popping out to look into 'stuff', Dumbledore knows about it though so don't worry," Hermione replied distractedly, since she was already simultaneously holding Harry's hand and comforting Ginny.

"I'll be right back," Sirius said quickly before all but sprinting out of his chair.

"He didn't make the third step on second landing stairs before a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Are you kidding me? The kid is going through repeated _mind torture_ and you're going off to-"

"I am a Hit-Wizard and I'm going to provide support to Bartholomew and the Rakers, if they're going where I think they are," Sirius snapped back hotly.

"What happened the last time you tried doing something like this? Oh wait, you went to _Azkaban_, you pillock! You're staying here."

Sirius took a deep breath and stepped back onto the landing.

"...Fine. I just hope that-"

"They aren't going to get away with this, I promise you. I'll go, if you like," Jericho said with a reassuring smile.

Sirius looked at him darkly and then said, "You can't go. You're protecting Harry, _like you should have been doing that night!_"

Jericho's eyes flashed and he turned slightly in his place. The two men were now squaring up to each other.

"I thought I made it clear I wasn't-"

"YOU WEREN'T **THERE, **DOING **YOUR** JOB!"

"Gentlemen," Albus Dumbledore's soft tone cut through the argument like butter.

Both deflated in nanoseconds and turned towards the headmaster's voice.

"Captain, go upstairs and watch over Harry," Albus said with a tone of command.

"Yes sir," Jericho said immediately before vanishing up the steps to the Hospital Wing.

The headmaster now turned his gaze to a dishevelled-looking Black.

"Albus I..."

"There is only one person you have done wrong by today Sirius and I am not him. Right now however, you need to go contact your colleagues and inform Madam Bones of the current situation. Her department needs the confidence boost a successful first raid can provide and the Rakers need their support. Also...Cornelius is deflecting questions about certain incidents at Hogwarts now Hogsmeade has been reported to death but we really need the media to latch into something _else_ right now."

Sirius looked at him confusedly, "And what do I do when I report in? She'll probably want _me_ to go with them."

Albus looked at him, "Well, that's your decision. We are at war now after all. You are needed, as are we all. Sacrifices have to be made but _never_ try and give up more than you can live with. If I may however, I would advise you to not base your answer off of revenge. In my opinion, it is and always has been the most worthless cause. Now I must go and see what I can do to help young Mr Potter through this. Good day Sirius," and with that he too swept upstairs to join the gathering around Harry's bed.

Sirius leant heavily onto the wall behind him.

"Shit," he said quietly before turning to go.

Dumbledore said, and he agreed, that revenge was not the way to go about this.

That did not mean he wasn't going to enjoy storming Malfoy Manor.


	41. Chapter 41: Preperations

**AEU Chapter 41**

_'To the nonmagical observer, the Wizarding world doesn't appear to make sense in certain regards. The acute lack of taxes, governmental services and physically close communities can appear utterly alien to outsiders, especially those from a socialised set of countries such as the UK._

_One of the more common queries that comes up is the absence of any kind of armed forces anywhere in the Wizarding world. This is actually one of the more easily answered questions, as five minutes with a powerful caster will show exactly why this 'muggle idea' is not practical for magical beings. Simply put, if one hundred average magic users with some modicum of combat training went up against an alert and powerful wizard, those one hundred people would die extremely quickly. _

_This is not to say that the magical side of the country is lawless. There are certainly officers of the law, even a special tasks force for dangerous missions but no man has ever figured out a way to bring forth into the world an effective magical army capable of defending and protecting itself and the general populace (which, if you have not yet already figure out, makes this initiative of upmost importance). Since it was incredibly difficult to field magical armies, there have been little to no magical wars in history and certainly none in Afro-Eurasia. At most, there have been arguments and feuds between families (which was as destructive as it sounds), attacks against goblins and giants (which have consistently ended in a wizarding curb stomp battle) and particular long raids against criminals and law breakers._

_But, might you ask, what if there should come a time when a dark lord, of which there have been many, gathers a force that outclasses the Aurors and Hit Wizards a magical ministry has at their disposal? Historically speaking, said dark lord and followers were atomised and thrown into the four winds when they reach this level by the absolute power in the Wizarding world: The Enlightened.'_

Bartholomew sighed as he neatly folded and put away the rough draft of a pamphlet he was working on for new nonmagical members of the Raker Initiative.

"What's that?" Sirius said, looking extremely bored as he lounged back on his chair in the map room.

"I'm trying to write a description of The Enlightened that isn't complete gibberish or overburdened with wizarding legend whilst still remaining vague enough that they aren't going to come and fry my mind…again," Bart replied quietly as people began to take their seats.

"What?" Sirius said curiously, getting up and settling down next to him. "Those bedtime horror stories my mother told me weren't true?" He said in mock dismay.

"Given you family's history…perhaps not all of them."

"Hah!" Sirius barked softly, quieting down considerably as his boss strode into the room and took her place by the circular table in the centre.

"Good evening everyone," Madam Bones said tersely.

It wasn't a 'good evening' and everyone knew it. After days of recognisance and planning, there were a lot of people biting at the bit to start this operation and get the reprehensible criminal responsible for Hogsmeade put away or atomised. The various Hit Wizards and high-level Aurors sitting around the room were eager to finally act despite their general exhaustion and depression.

Everyone had lost someone in the attack.

Raker Unit Two had been treated to a great deal of scrutiny and uncertainty by the regular law enforcement by virtue of their unusual weapons, armour and the fact that half the task force and their commanding officer were Muggle. The soldiers however, strived to maintain a degree of stoicism and professionalism as Bones began speaking.

"As you know, following the most recent reports on Hogsmeade and the surrounding area, the Minister has been…pressuring the department to find the criminals responsible and neutralise them with all due haste."

Displeasure radiated from the Department Head. Magical Law Enforcement hated it when a politician became pushy with them, especially in a situation such as this, when not only was it imperative that the operation was a success, many more lives would be lost if anything went wrong. An armed Lord Voldemort with a band of Death Eaters had previously brought Magical Britain to the point of near-total collapse. This Voldemort seemed to be even more destructive and could easily perform the same pyrotechnic display on _London_ should he care to try.

"Thanks to the efforts of our Auror teams, we now know that Lord Voldemort-"

A few low hisses emanated around the room at his name.

"-and a group of Death Eaters have taken control of the former residence of Lucius Malfoy," Bones said, gesturing at the table which immediately obliged by sprouting a solid three dimensional model of Malfoy Manor.

"As we are unsure as to whether there are any civilians or innocents within the area, or that any of the observed Death Eaters so far seen are not new bloods guilty merely by association thus far, a direct artillery or missile strike is considered a last resort option by Her Majesty's Government," Bartholomew said, smoothly standing and taking up a position at the table.

"However, the department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Rakers have co-operated to provide as many resources as we see fit to apprehend and, if necessary, eliminate the terrorist threat. You should all know that at this point the criminal known as Lord Voldemort," his up-to-date facial image appeared hovering over the model, "has been branded with a kill order. All other Death Eaters are to be brought in alive if possible but lethal force is authorised should a fire fight break out. As for Voldemort," and here it seemed Bart was speaking directly to his Rakers, "shoot him on sight."


	42. Chapter 42: Operation Malfoy Manor

**AEU Chapter 42**

"Blue light."

Sirius nodded as he saw the tiny pinprick on the other side of the vast grounds too. He, Alistair Moody and Bartholomew Granger were scouting the west side of the grounds, which were intermitted with low hills and sandbanks. They had gotten over the wall and through the wards with everyone else, then split up as the main force went through the eastern tree-lined path.

Three peacocks had already bought it due to twitchy wand hands.

"Can't see anyone important yet," Bart said, peering through the magically enhanced high powered binoculars

"Hmm, Narcissa at least should be here. Nott's in Belgium doing some sort of recognisance for something or other, Lucius is dead and all the other inner circle members are in Azkaban so..."

"Yeah, there are a whole bunch of Death Eaters in the lower levels below ground," Bartholomew said after Sirius tailed off, the lens now tinged red as they revealed the large warm glow of a mass of people directly under the manor milling around

"I always hated the waiting and checking bit." Sirius whined half-jokingly.

"Amount of numbskulls like you who decide to skip that step is the reason I got so many scars. I always ended up being the cavalry back whenever I used to have to bail out wizards who got caught out by a scumbag," Alistair rumbled with his signature growl

"Oh?" Bart said, looking up, "Like in Lord of the Rings, when Gondor calls for aid or-"

"The battle for Helm's Deep!" Sirius nodded enthusiastically, "Gotta love the relief force, it's always fun rescuing everyone and killing all the bad guys."

"Ah, if real life were so simple."

"Constant vigilance, lads. Constant. Vigilance."

A red pinprick flashed from the woods, further up in front this time

"Move up," Sirius said.

The three men, one in the tan armour of the Rakers, two in the jet black of the Ministry, ran swiftly yet carefully until they were pressed up against the wall of the front façade. Splitting the lenses in half between the two men whom did not possess magic all-seeing eyeballs, the trio surveyed the interior through the wall.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy strode around the welcoming hall to her late husband's manor in a state of unrest. Ever since his death, Lucius' home had played host to the new Death Eater horde. She let out a shudder when she was sure she was alone. The new dark lord was more fiendish than ever before and his followers were being forced back onto a war footing most hadn't been prepared for. The fact he looked and had the voice of his sixteen year old self bore (almost) no comment. After the first few torture sessions, everyone shuttered their mouths and thoughts about it.

"Mrs Malfoy, when will the Dark Lord return?" a low deep voice asked from the top of the stairs.

"When he wishes, Goyle. Continue prepping with the others, we need to be ready for our Lord's plan."

The man stooped and departed downstairs without further comment. Narcissa sighed. The quality of people following Voldemort was hardly top calibre, but then again, much of the destruction done in the last war was from his inner circle. The grunt Death Eaters were there for smaller operations, operations Voldemort was already planning. She however, was one of only three high ranking Death Eater's left on the outside of Azkaban...something she didn't relish at the moment as Nott was in Europe on a 'special mission', leaving her in command here.

_'Merlin_, _I_ _miss_ _you_ _Lucius_.'

She paused in her deliberations as a sharp tapping sounded from the manor door. Confused, she glanced at the clock. It was not yet nearly midnight, and the dark lord had stated he would be back no earlier than one o' clock. Narcissa decided to check via the door runes to see whom it was calling so late and so urgently. As her hand closed around the doorknob, a spark shot straight through her from it. The runes glistened for a moment but faded as her grip slackened.

The clock continued to tick in the now silent entrance hall. After sixty three ticks, the door opened softly and noiselessly from the outside in. A shadow fell across the crumpled but still breathing woman on the floor.

"Good evening cousin. You're under arrest."

* * *

In the time it took Sirius to silently stun, bind, gag and disillusion Mrs Malfoy, Moody had scouted out and secured the rest of the ground floor and the platoon of Rakers assigned for infiltration had quietly entered. They had quickly confirmed that Intel had been correct in that the windows were reinforced and that only two hostiles remained above basement level. Mr Granger sent two pairs up to quietly deal with one wizard each.

With the entirety of the main building secure, the second Raker platoon entered as did the Hit Squad teams. The curse breaker and enchantment teams had been signalled (a green light from the third window from the right on the second story of the house) to begin placing anti-apparition wards around the Malfoy's land, which had been identified in the briefing to be protected by the family's own wards and walls. Now that they were reasonably certain that Voldemort could not suddenly appear in their midst, the second part of the operation was put into action.

Moody took out his copy of what the Ministry had recorded as the official plans to the place and cross referenced it by what he could see through the ground.

"Yeah, looks mostly the same. There's two secret new chambers under the drawing room and dining room but there's no one in them. Old Lucius was probably stashing contraband in 'em," Moody growled softly. "Other than that, there's the main cellar made up of four chambers. One has a ton of Death Eaters in it, seems to be a training area of sorts. The rest are scattered around. There's at least fifty of 'em."

"How many ways down there?" Bartholomew asked.

"Three. Those stairs," Moody pointed to the few steps visible from where they were currently standing, "another set round the back of the house and a service hatch in the kitchen. No sign of the house elf by the way, let's hope he stays clear."

"Service tunnel hmm?" Bartholomew mused before gesturing to one of the Rakers. "Lieutenant, do you think we can use the canisters?"

The man in question took out his own map and frowned in concentration. "If these are correct sir, then yeah I think so. The gas should hit them before they know what's happening."

"Except for five Death Eaters in the fourth chamber here," Moody corrected, magical eye still directed downwards but tapping the map helpfully. "They'll have enough time, if they're smart about it, to put a temporary shield up at least."

"Right...that's where you're going then Sirius," Bart said. "Get the Hit Wizards directly over that chamber and tear the floor up when we drop the stuff. Then stun everyone in there and we can call it a night."

"Got it," Sirius nodded, along with the several other Hit Wizards whom had been listening. "When you drop them, we'll wait five seconds and then we'll nab them."

"Sounds good to me. Hop to it."

The Rakers who weren't carrying gas grenades readied themselves in gas masks by each staircase. There was no guarantee that all hostiles would be taken out by the gas or Sirius' team, so they would provide a quick knockout to anyone still standing down there. Moody warned one of the teams that a Death Eater was coming up the stairs alone and they quickly vanished into the shadows and crevices surrounding the top of the stairs. Moments later, Goyle was senseless and securely bound next to his superior and Moody signalled Bartholomew to drop the gas down.

* * *

Henry Ratgen was feeling depressed. He had joined these chaps after chatting and drinking with them in the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed like a perfectly fine idea at the time, a quick way to get power, respect and admiration for dealing with a corrupt government, a sluggish economy and far too many Muggle-Borns for his liking. But now...after news of Hogsmeade had broken out, after having to train in a basement day and night by a sociopathic teenager with a penchant for torture...let us just say that Henry was having second thoughts about his life choices.

He was in the kitchen, having a late night respite after the last painful few hours of duelling practice. He was just about ready to start wondering where that stupid House Elf had gone when the room suddenly filled with a cloudy, thick compound. Henry hazily had a vague and nightmarish flashback to Snape's potions classroom before falling over backwards, uncomprehending to all of his new colleagues caught in the same situation. He didn't hear the crash of what sounded suspiciously like the ceiling being sucked out, nor the harsh yells that sounded moments before twenty huge men and women smashed through the place, trending on all of his fingers and knocking a mug of coffee onto his face.

Henry Ratgen knew no more until the next morning, when he awoke to find himself securely chained to a cell wall.

* * *

Narcissa was not the only reason for the raid tonight but her capture would hopefully lead to a veritable goldmine of information, plus it would inconvenience Voldemort, whom would be hard pressed now to find new inner circle recruits to replace the two he had already lost. Factoring in the loss of a base of operations, all of his supporters (in this country at least) and Voldemort was looking surprisingly vulnerable all of a sudden.

"The Manor is secure sir," a Raker officer said, smartly saluting to Bartholomew, whom returned the gesture tiredly.

"Check them for dark marks. If you find one that is very darkly coloured and clearly visible, call immediately. It means Voldemort knows."

The various wizards and Rakers busied themselves with securing the prisoners for a while before two dark marks were found in clear relief against the mottled skin of their owners.

Sirius, how long?" Bart said sharply.

"Going off their position where we found them and the brightness of the marks, I'd say we've got about two minutes.

"Signal Madam Bones to delay her arrival for an hour." Bartholomew seemed to be considering something, but before Sirius could ask what was occupying his friend, the soldier straightened up again. "Clear out everyone from the building and withdraw back to the safe zone. I have a call to make."

* * *

Lord Voldemort stormed towards the Manor House in a rage the likes of which the world had scarcely seen. Forcing himself to remain calm and focused, the dark lord examined from afar the front of one of the grandest private residences in Europe. The lack of visible damage unnerved him far more than a disintegrated front entrance would have. It meant the _other_ side were quick, professional and skilful in their operations.

'_They've learnt since last time then_,' he mentally spat.

He had been gone a mere four hours and _this_ had happened. The incompetence of his followers and the daring of his enemies irritated him. It was yet another sign that his predecessor had screwed up his easy ascent to power. Now he, the apparently wiser wizard, had to conquer the world the hard way. However, the Horcrux half that he was made up from contained merely the memories of his sixteen years and only slightly more power than he had back then...for now. He could feel a surge year coming for this new body, and the opportunity to be truly young again was not to be squandered. As half of the original, he theorised that in time he would inherit half the powers of the original Tom Riddle, which was far more than the previous Lord Voldemort had possessed and _he_ very nearly had the general British Wizarding public paralytic with fear and grovelling at _his_ feet. He had time to wait and to plot. Now however, he had to kill the ones who presumed to invade his house.

The cavernous and empty hall mocked him with silence as he entered. No sooner had he crossed the threshold however, the doors slammed shut, the windows blackened and he was thrown into darkness.

He remained silent and still. Fear was not something that he had ever allowed to consume his mind, nor was he prone to panic. The new dark lord was merely resigned to the fact that he was, at the moment, trapped.

"Lumos," he said calmly, flicking a light out of the boy's stolen wand.

The glow was almost immediately snatched away from him and dispersed, pitching him into darkness once more. Frowning, he tried again, this time alert for some other person who was interfering with his magic. The light came on and went out again with dazzling speed.

"Approach me, whoever you are. I have no patience for these games!" Voldemort shouted, before mastering himself. It would not do for his rage to rule him either.

A ghostly chuckle emanated from the rafters of the roof. The tapping of a cane was heard on the stairs. Lord Voldemort snapped around and saw nothing yet in the blackness, but a light was softly beginning to illuminate the ground around him. He could see the corpses of many Death Eaters; their blood had stained the carpet and his feet with red and their faces were set into masks of uttermost horror and agony.

"Consider this something of a warning and a threat," a voice suddenly said, leaping from the darkness around him.

Voldemort whirled and turned again, trying to pinpoint the location of the speaker.

"A warning? Have I not already destroyed Hogsmeade? Has your Ministry of Magic not already declared war? We are already past words, I think." Voldemort said, his voice dripping with bile.

"They are not _my_ Ministry and _you_ are not Lord Voldemort. Not yet."

"Cease your ravings madman, and face me!" the dark lord challenged, curious as he was as to the identity of the wizard in the room with him.

A deep sigh emanated from across the hall, "You do not see then. I shall...enlighten you.

Light suddenly exploded all around Lord Voldemort. He flinched and covered his eyes under the torment of the glare. A man in a grey muggle suit was towering over him with a cane in hand. Harry Potter's wand was held in the other.

"You are the sentient reconstruction of a sixteen year old's memories, mental abilities and magical power. You are not Lord Voldemort and you have not lived his life. You act the part you were created to play. You have seen already that you are not your creator. I can see your mind is already tinted with doubt about his claims of perfection. You suspect you are his superior. Yet you follow his life as he lived it."

Voldemort...the Horcrux construct of him anyway, listened with growing interest in what the strange man was saying. He did not have much choice mind, as his wand was no longer in his hand and his magic was unworkable in this place for some reason.

"Listen to me closely. You have existed as a sentient being for less than two weeks. Before that time, you were a mad construct, desperately fulfilling your programmed purpose to restore 'Voldemort' to life. Yet even then, you were clever. You did not wait, you acted and manipulated Malfoy. You broke into Hogwarts, controlled Slytherin's basilisk and Ginny Weasley right under Albus Dumbledore's nose. When you became, for want of a better word, _alive_, you still believed yourself to be Voldemort. So you did what you believed your older self would do, spread fear through destruction before retreating to collect information and gather supporters. You later found out that the real Lord Voldemort was _never_ so pragmatic. You must understand that, in many ways, you are capable of being better than he.

The teenager (in physical body at least) on the floor was now still and silent, considering the words of the man above. They were all true, just as he had thought them. This meant that not only was the man breaking into his mind undetected, it also meant that he had a point to give.

"Astute," the figure said approvingly, answering his thoughts. "We want you to stop now, before you become the dark lord doomed to fail a second time. You need to know that you shall fall if you attempt to follow your creator's path."

"What do you suggest then, that I cast off my hatreds, snap my wand and no longer be who I am?"

"You were never what you considered yourself to be," Humphrey said softly. "Your own mind tells you this. The first few days of your existence were instinct and reactionary, you had no awareness and barely any semblance of a true person's mind. Yet here you are. You have grown in your freedom child, and you cannot, _will_ _not_ be the man you thought you were. This conversation hasn't changed what you knew to be true or manipulated your thoughts into a direction they were not already heading. I merely bring you options."

"Why?"

The blunt reply sounded in the hall and had time to echo back multiple times and fade away as Humphrey considered.

"You are essentially a brainwashed _child_ that possesses potentially half of the base magical core of the true Lord Voldemort. And yet I sense your surge coming. You will grow to his natural strength that he himself would have had, had he not been insane and divided himself up into seven pieces. A being of your eventual power and intellect running around with no morals to speak of is intolerable and we shall not allow it. You **WILL** either die here tonight or genuinely, and I shall know if you are lying, consider and then accept one of my 'suggestions'."

The figure inclined his head to the side and gazed into the mid-distance.

"Also, a _very_ interesting person managed to convince both my brother and myself of the possibility of reforming you."

"Who?"

"It remains to be seen if you earn the right to ask such questions, but I shall answer one now before we continue," the man said, in a tone set to remind the dark wizard he was on the floor cowering before him.

Silence reigned for a full minute before the Horcrux spoke again.

"What are you?"

"My name is Humphrey-"

"**What** are you?"

"I? I am Enlightened. I was born a male human wizard, eventually was 'discovered' and studied at Durmstrang for a time and grew into adulthood. I explored the world and found myself questioning the nature of magic itself. When I found my answer, I became...different, shall we say? My original body died. My consciousness ceased and was replicated exactly as it was into a new being made mostly out of energy but could become matter if it wished. I am, like you, a replication, perfected in some ways, by magic. I am bound by both my own values and a set of laws I cannot break. Unlike many of the people like me, I choose to remain present and aware to the world at large. I wander around the world helping out in many small matters and some rather large ones, as my powers permit."

The being on the ground had listened with something akin to fascination as Humphrey had spoken. He had also decided for now to refer to himself as Tom Riddle, for want of a better label for himself.

"Tom Riddle? So be it," Humphrey said approvingly. Whilst it went against his nature to reveal so many of his own secrets to another, in this case it would aid the developing life form rather more than it would threaten himself personally.

I realise that you can probably kill me easily at this point. I would _prefer_ to live and therefore shall listen to what you say," Riddle said sullenly but honestly.

"Well obviously the first option, short of killing you, is imprisonment. However," he said when Riddle looked mutinously at him, "though bitter and hate filled the world may be, I don't think the legal system will allow a mentally disturbed creature such as yourself...forgive me, you were so when you destroyed the village at least, I could sense it. Still, the Wizarding world is not your friend right now and you would, should you wish to continue to live within it, have to work hard to gain any kind of approval or even forgiveness."

Tom Riddle nodded. This he knew already. Whilst it was certainly provable that his actions up to this point could be explained and (somewhat) excused by Lord Voldemort's programming, he would still at best spend a very long time being poked and prodded by both a pack of Unspeakables and the entirety of the St Mungo's psychiatric department. On the whole, he would rather avoid incarceration and medical examination, at least until he could have the latter done on his own terms. He wasn't so fussed about absolution.

"Hmm, quite. I can see how that option would not be very agreeable to you. So then, option two: you volunteer to join the fight against the 'real' Voldemort. You help us destroy his Horcruxes, disband the Death Eaters and, finally, help us find and destroy his original spirit. In return, you will get a full pardon from the ICW and The Enlightened, an opportunity to find your own way and perhaps also a little redemption for past crimes."

Riddle snorted mentally. That last part sounded like something the old man would say and the tiny flash of amusement that drew across Humphrey's face told him that it was indeed so. For all intents and purposes, this option did indeed sound better. However, it would mean turning his back on ruling the world, casting aside everything he knew and was good at for an unknown future he wasn't sure he wanted.

'_And yet, I don't know that I don't want it,_' he thought. _'The problem with being created by a man consumed by one goal is that it's hard to think outside of that box, even if said box is on fire and being eaten by rats._'

"You may sneer but the fact remains that you killed many hundreds of people in a few minutes, broke up hundreds of other families and sent the country into a frenzy. This is not an act of compassion from us, you are going to EARN that freedom you want."

"Is there another option?" Riddle said, to buy himself more thinking time.

"It's more of an addition to option two," Humphrey admitted. "If you would do all of the above and also aid both myself and Professor Dumbledore in a matter of some delicacy and importance, we will personally endeavour to help and support you in any way we legally and morally can."

Tom Riddle nearly smiled at the temptation but stopped himself short. He wanted to know what this would cost him in order to get their cooperation. What on Earth could they need him for beyond dealing with Voldemort?

Humphrey sighed quietly at the suspicious young mind he was dealing with but he answered the unspoken question Riddle posed regardless. Tossing the wand back into the surprised wizard's hand, Humphrey said, "It is a rather curious matter to do with Harry Potter."

* * *

**A/N: Just a quick thank you to everyone who has read the story so far and thanks for 50k views!**


	43. Chapter 43: The Measure of a Man

**AEU Chapter 43**

"You did WHAT!"

Minister Fudge stood hunched over the desk, his knuckles cracking into the woodwork and his face red with the sudden bellow.

Humphrey looked at him unperturbed. "I sealed the entity that is currently calling itself 'Tom Riddle' within Malfoy Manor, provoked him by dispelling his magic and then argued with him for a few minutes on the nature of his being. Then I left him cowering on the carpet to think about what he has done."

The speechless faces of the most powerful magical beings in Britain met his explanation with even more disbelief.

"Why didn't you kill him when you had the chance? More to the point, where the _fuck_ were you ten years ago when he was murdering people by the dozen _every day_?" Fudge roared in his face, causing no discernible reaction from Humphrey but his brother coughed to remind the politician that it was impolite to literal spit and rage at people.

"Thank you Bartholomew. Now, as to your...questions, in order: I did not kill him because I received an excellent argument as to why I should not without speaking to him first. Ten years ago I was in Japan, aiding a colleague of mine dealing with a nuclear disaster. I did not kill Lord Voldemort, whom I have already explained isn't the current Tom Riddle, then for the same reasons I gave back then when I _did_ begin to help your efforts. I was not _allowed_ to. If you have a problem with that, take it up with my superiors."

Fudge's face turned from red to white as if his blood with sucked out of his head. Going to the ICW was daunting enough. Going before their superiors was, rumour had it, something even Dumbledore himself had not done.

"Who convinced an Enlightened to not destroy a dark wizard? Isn't that one of the only things you people are allowed to do?" Madam Bones said sceptically, her lips pursing when it came to the word 'people'.

"It's one of the aims we publicise, yes," Humphrey nodded, "Although, to be frank, we generally deal with people orders of magnitude more powerful than Voldemort. People who would be in the ICW if it weren't for their insanity or evil behaviour. We also have worked with the UN since its inception, and we also aid every Ministry with magical detection, though most of that work is managed by others."

Madam Bones narrowed her eyes at the attempted question dodge and pursued it doggedly, "And who-"

"_Whom_," Bart corrected.

"I thought it was '_who'_," Humphrey said, turning towards his brother.

"Really? No, I think-"

"Enough!" Scrimgeour shouted. "WHO got you-?"

"I did," Bart said simply.

"What!" Fudge snarled dangerously. "Bartholomew Granger, what possessed you to play around with national security like that?"

"Because sir, Harry Potter asked me nicely."

* * *

The former Horcrux examined itself magically for the third time in as many minutes. He…_'it?_'…was unsure as to what his body was composed of. The scans said human, male, 16 and a half years old and with a strong magical core with signs of a surge year approaching. And yet...he spontaneously appeared in the Chamber of Secrets from...what? How did _he_, out of all of his...creator's splices, develop a mind of his own, so much as to even manifest partially during the diary itself? After all, it was not Voldemort who came up with the idea to corrupt and possess Malfoy, thus ensuring a plan involving his anchor's use would actually work. No he, the entity, did that. But then again, instinct and memories from Voldemort were all that he had. It had made _sense_ for him to threaten and torture Harry Potter instead of removing a credible threat immediately.

Why?

His own senses were screaming for him to either kill the boy or wipe his memory and run. _Why_ did he enjoy the pain? What possessed him to-?

The musing cut short as Tom Riddle realised the truth. He _was_ possessed, possessed by the memories of the past, of Voldemort. But he was _not_ Voldemort, he only believed himself to be him. By his very existence, he proved he was an entity separate from his creator. When Voldemort's memories and instincts (the parts that, in many ways, make up a person) told him that he needed to make a scene to announce his return, he..._'or was it 'it'?_'...was pushed into destroying that village he had walked in...No...No, no, no, that _Voldemort_ had walked through during his Hogwarts years.

Was what happened there his fault? Try as he might, the entity did not feel any remorse or sorrow for the deaths and ungodly amounts of pain he must have caused. It seemed that even though he might not BE Voldemort, the template came from him and so he was...cold. Sociopathic.

That was unclear though. Perhaps his brain, having only existed for a short time, had not managed to process the emotions yet?

'_Too unclear...too unclear._'

Tom Riddle paused and stopped his aimless wanderings through the...looking around he saw he was apparently wandering around a forest filled with lightly coloured trees and bushes, and tried to organise his thoughts a little more.

'_The trouble is, that I have only one man's word on this, and my own instincts, which may or may not be Voldemort's instincts, and Voldemort was insane..._'

'_Am I insane?_'

The entity shuddered. That possibility scared him more than most.

'_Am_ _I male or not? My body and mind are but..._'

He wouldn't accept the possibility of madness yet. He needed to experiment and see whether now, after all he had thought about and been told...could he still act the part of Lord Voldemort or not?

Unfortunately for Nott, he decided that this was the time to butt in via apparition, knowing where to go of course from the mark that he had willingly allowed to be burnt onto his arm. Tom Riddle smiled warmly, for the first time in his existence.

Here was a test for him!

Nott opened his mouth but quickly had all the information he was about to give torn from his mind, along with everything else. He barely had time to screech as his mental being was ripped up, processed and obliterated by his master. Then there was a pause, in which his mindless body stood upright for a second, a puppet whose strings had just been cut. Then he slumped and crumpled onto the forest floor at the boy's feet.

He considered the corpse. The man's life was unremarkable. Boring even, enlivened only for a few moments by acts of wanton destruction and murder. The entity felt...a tiny breath of disquiet at the utter savagery of the former man before him, at the waste of what intellect he had. Of how desire had corrupted and destroyed his life bit by bit. This was not however, enough prove to show that _he_ was something beyond Voldemort.

No...Only _one_ thing would do. He raised Harry Potter's wand and brought it down with a slash, shooting out a flash of green light that instantly killed his last free servant dead.

The entity tilted his..._'it's?_' head as it absorbed the thoughts, the chemicals and the feelings his body and mind were providing for him.

Leaving the empty shell lying there in a heap, he vanished into the night air.

* * *

'_The minister and his entourage are coming. You have about two minutes_.'

A cool voice floated through Harry's semi-awake mind. Pushing off the blurriness of slumber, he sat upright in his hospital bed.

It had been another day stuck in the empty wing, with little but thoughts of his murder of two sentient beings to 'entertain' him, broken up only by the thankfully less frequent jolts of pain brought about by the torture curse working its way through his system.

There was no sign of any speaker who might have told him that extremely useful bit of information, though Harry could have sworn that he had seen a flash of silvery light in the corner of his eye as the voice roused him.

'_Crap, now what do I do?_' he thought glumly, resigning himself to an argument that would quickly devolve into a lecture on how he had to respect authority figures, despite his upbringing, etcetera, etcetera.

'_Honestly, you convince a high powered magical being to _not_ kill another high powered magical being who has just murdered _hundreds_ of people and now everyone's gonna be looking at you weird..._' he mused dryly as the doors flew open and the minister stormed in, followed on his heels by Bones, the scraggy lion man who's name escaped him and the rather amused-looking trio of Bartholomew and Humphrey Granger, and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian (_'for god's sake, did your mother have commitment issues in regards to names?_') Dumbledore.

'_I suppose I could channel my inner Sirius and milk this chamber fiasco for all it's worth,_' he subconsciously grinned.

"Harry," the headmaster began kindly, cutting off the almost certainly less kind thing Fudge was about to say.

"Ah Dumbles," Harry said in a stifled voice, causing the three ministerial official to freeze in shock (again), "Glad to see you. Mr Dent and Mr Prefect here have been having a fascinating debate on cars and their prevalence in comparison to the human population. Care to comment?"

Dumbledore looked at the empty hospital beds surrounding Harry's and was silent for a moment. His eyes twinkled briefly as he gently said, "Harry, I know you haven't gone mad. I've talked to you three times already since the chamber incident."

Harry blinked.

'_Bugger. Maybe I am developing brain damage if I managed to forget that..._'

"I...how are we getting off track _again_?" Fudge said exasperatedly, causing Harry to send a confused glance at him and then a raised eyebrow to Bartholomew, who was staring up at the ceiling in apparent admiration of the high vaulted style the founders of Hogwarts preferred.

"Mr Potter, apparently you have...communicated," Bones shot an ugly glare at the two Grangers, "that our agents should spare a known war criminal merely hours after he murdered the majority of the magical human population in Scotland."

"Technically Hogwarts has a higher-"

"**Enough**!" Bones said, causing Humphrey to fall silent, "Explain yourself Mr Potter. Now!"

Harry considered for a moment before deciding to tell them some of the truth, just to make them go away.

"I saw...in the chamber..." Harry immediately tensed in anticipation of a pain and gasped in relief when it didn't arrive.

'_Dammit boy! Don't be so weak! They're going to question this too much as it is!_'

"The Horcrux was changing as it became more...real, I believe we would say. The spectre changed from a ghostly image of Voldemort, whom I have seen before, into a boy of teenage years. He lost his speech impediment, his more erratic mannerisms and controlled himself better. Before then he was talking about his plan and I saw how he had ensnared..." Harry gulped and swallowed again, "Mr...Mr Malfoy, and that seemed out of character for Voldemort. The thing is...I don't think he _is_ Voldemort anymore. I think, since from what Sirius and Captain Jericho told me about the lack of incidents since Hogsmeade, I think he was changing from what he had been into something different. Something that can be _reasoned_ with."

Fudge had opened and shut his mouth wordlessly throughout this, and now turned to Humphrey in horror.

"This? _This_ was what convinced you? The ramblings of a terrorised _child_ whom had just been _tortured_ out of his senses and had barely any up-to-date information on Voldemort?"

Humphrey and Bart looked at him coldly. Harry had recoiled sharply at Fudge's words and had shrank back against the bed.

"Of course not, you moron," Humphrey said suddenly, with genuine bite in his voice. "The fact Voldemort's Horcrux had evolved was self-evident when I fought him inside the chamber. I could see and feel it inside his own mind! Not only that, his erratic changing of behaviour from himself to Voldemort and back was apparent. _He_ wanted to kill Harry immediately. Voldemort's memories and mind kicked in and he was tortured first. _He_ wanted to flee and rebuild. Voldemort made him stop whilst he was being chased by the only two people _in the entire country_ capable of murdering him and caused him to burn down an entire village."

"The entity, or whatever you wish to call it," Humphrey continued, "has the capability of either becoming far worse than Voldemort or a vital person we can help develop and grow...and besides, my code prevents me from harming innocents, and his mental instability and basically indoctrination by his creator prevents me from seeing him as guilty...yet. Rest assured, I now have a way of finding him wherever he is and...If he doesn't turn himself in within a week, I'm putting him down myself."

"But…"

Humphrey waved his hand, "Yes, _I am aware_ that he is at present a truly wicked person with no compunction against killing, torturing and controlling people. However, how much of that is him and not the memories and programming Voldemort poured into his head is another question entirely. It would be difficult to say to what degree he is responsible for his own actions in a court of law and the ICW will _bury _you alive if you start going down the 'kill first, no trial later' approach of the last few administrations."

Dumbledore then stepped in, "I believe you have your answer Cornelius. Now I suggest you kindly leave my student be and discuss this elsewhere."

He saw a flicker of a smile and an appreciative grunt from Harry as Fudge slowly nodded and turned to leave.

"Cheers sir, I really wasn't looking forward to a lecture."

"You have merely postponed it. Madam Bones will not forget this Harry."

"Screw her. No one else is dying who doesn't deserve it."

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth shut with a clack as he realised he had said far too much, far too rudely.

Dumbledore's face became even more lined (if that were possible) but he merely nodded, which Harry took to mean '_We will discuss this further._'

"Thank you," Harry breathed to the three men, before his eyes shut and he was engulfed by blissful sleep again.

Bartholomew looked sadly at the little boy. Turning to go with a sigh, he glanced at his brother and saw with astonishment that he too was looking at the child with something akin to pity.

"You were lying to the Minster about your reason, weren't you," Bart said quietly.

"No...That just wasn't the main focus of my considerations," Humphrey replied, "I also wanted to help the boy."

"Why?"

Humphrey looked at him, not in the least bit hurt that his brother wouldn't consider him capable of performing a selfless act.

"He is of interest," the man in grey said shortly, before swiftly departing the room, leaving Bartholomew alone with his thoughts.

* * *

**A/N: And so we are into the new stuff! Reviews are welcome as always and perhaps I might have something else up before I start back at school. Thanks for reading and again, for 50,000 views.**


	44. Chapter 44: Questions

**AEU Chapter 44**

Harry was both bored and too exhausted to do anything about it. It had been days and weeks since his incarceration in the hospital wing and yet he was still struggling to bring his thoughts together. Physically speaking, he could walk, talk and generally operate about as well as he could before Halloween, though he still felt weak. Mentally, whilst he could put on a good show when conversing with or under the observation of others, in truth he was far from well.

He had been beaten. That had never happened before.

True Dudley had attacked him and he sometimes failed in the classroom but never before had someone swept him aside so easily that he was essentially powerless before them. The Riddle creature not only took him from under the nose of Dumbledore and trapped him in the chamber without magic, he then proceeded to torture and inflict unto him injuries to the extent that Madam Pomfrey, one of the best healers in the country, took days to heal him.

And Harry had murdered two sapient beings.

This was an infinitely worse thing than the beetle and that had caused him to go off transfiguration for a while. Whilst he could comfort himself with the fact that he had no other option with the basilisk and that it was otherwise going to remain a slave to Riddle, Mr Malfoy was killed, even if accidentally, by Harry's rage. How could he be forgiven for that?

…What was going to happen to Draco? One parent dead; the other imprisoned.

Harry didn't know. He was beginning to sink into depression, brought on by the after effects of the torture and the guilt of his crimes. Hence even if he wasn't tired, he was too apathetic to relieve his boredom.

"Tom Riddle is coming to see you."

He turned towards Jericho, who had presumably just been informed by his earpiece.

"Quickly, what's he been doing here and why is he coming?" Harry said quietly.

Jericho shrugged, his eyes crinkled with concern, "Library. He was granted full access with supervision and has been going over newspaper and ministerial reports. A few topics but mostly centred around Voldemort's downfall and current events. As to why he's coming here…no idea. Do you want me to refuse him?"

"No, but call Sirius. He might be on duty at the moment but I might need to talk to him after this. I assume everyone who can approve this visit has?"

"Yes sir."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "_Sir_?"

Jericho shrugged again. "Respect is earnt boy and you have mine." Before Harry could respond, he half-raised his hand. "He's at the door. You want him in?"

The boy nodded again and the door opened to reveal Tom Riddle in plain robes. Harry's breath caught in his throat before he released it angrily.

"We meet again, Mr Potter."

Harry's eyes widened. "That was the most clichéd conversation opener you could have picked."

Riddle stared down at him. "It seemed appropriate enough. I see you have been fixed."

"Observant," Harry scowled. "What other wisdom do you have to share with me Voldemort?"

Riddle's eye twitched at the name. "I don't identify with _him_," he said, contempt dripping from his mouth, "rest assured Mr Potter, if I meant you ill I would not have come in for a chat first. I just want to talk."

"Brilliant. Give me my wand back then," Harry snapped, finding himself quite confused and concerned about the anger that was bubbling within him.

Riddle inclined his head and smiled; "Of course," he said taking out the wand. "You know, it is a very fine one. I am loath to give it back."

"Then why are you?" Jericho said, speaking for the first time. "Give me that before Harry touches it."

"Ah, you don't trust me. Most wise," Riddle said. He handed the wand over for Jericho's examination all without taking his eyes off of Harry. "Now will you talk with me?"

"What do you want to discuss?" Harry forced himself to say, quashing the unsettling fear he felt being this close to Riddle. He would be damned if the man was going to see any weakness from him.

"I have not been idle since that night Mr Potter. I have been searching and learning and unscrambling many things. Do you wish to know some of what I have learnt?"

"I am sure it will fascinate me."

Riddle peered at him. "You know…I think it will. Somehow. How about this, an answer for an answer? That way you can choose when to stop and we both get something from this."

"So even though you sook me out to talk to me, clearly because you want to give me 'information', you now want me to give you some as well. Even though the only reason I can see for you to give me any at all is to manipulate me somehow and that you have almost certainly already plotted out in your head what questions and answers to give in order to direct the conversation your own way. Did I miss anything out?"

Riddle's mouth twitched upward. "And here I thought your mind would be more scrambled still. You continue to impress Mr Potter. My suspicions grow stronger."

"What suspicions?"

"Ah, so you agree to my terms?"

Harry grew silent. After a minute of thought he glanced at Jericho, who subtly nodded from behind Riddle. "All right Mr Riddle. Answer the question."

"Me first," Riddle pressed.

Harry scowled. "Fine."

"What do you know about wands Harry?"

Harry blinked. That was not what he had expected at all but perhaps, now that he thought about it, Riddle was trying to get him talking about anything first before pressing further.

"Exceedingly little," he admitted. "They are unique to their user, they have a magical core and they are used to channel the user's magic through…" he tailed off. "How did you manage to use my wand?"

Riddle smirked. "That was my first question too and one that took me a while to figure out. Wands, as you said, don't work very well for anyone other than their owner. Whilst someone who has been _given_ another's wand might use it fairly well, stealing a wand without first winning it makes the wand almost…rebellious? It won't work very well. Yet your wand did yield to me surprisingly well, as if I were a close family member or lover."

Harry made a face.

"In short whilst I confess to not know the details, your wand views us as intimately linked."

In the quiet that followed, Harry processed the information. Was it true? Probably at least some of it was, though Harry also suspected Riddle knew perfectly well what was going on. If he was lying or omitting the truth now, Harry would have to tread extremely carefully in the following minutes.

"I don't know what he says is true or not but wands do not normally behave like this," Jericho said to him, "at least, so far as I know."

Harry nodded, brow furrowed. Why was the world becoming so complicated? He turned to Riddle, "Your turn."

"What do you know about your scar?"

That instantly put Harry and Jericho on alert. "My scar? What about it?"

Riddle shrugged. "Everything."

Harry exchanged looks with the captain. He didn't know how much Riddle knew about the matter so he would censor it until he was caught out. "I got it when the killing curse hit me. When Voldemort tried to kill me. It's permanent, an indicator a curse touched the skin and it does not affect my daily living, aside from making me annoyingly recognisable. Why do you ask?"

"Because, as you say, the act that it's there means the curse _hit_. Whatever protection you had around yourself, whatever magic placed around you by your parents or Dumbledore…that _failed_. The curse interacted directly with your body."

Harry nodded slowly, unsure of where he was going with this.

"But no one survives a direct hit with a killing curse! It causes instant brain death on touch to things with brains. Otherwise the curse finds a way to either kill or destroy whatever it is interacting with. Even with an inanimate object, it will simply disintegrate it. The curse is designed and performed to ensure that, whatever it hits, it obliterates. No exceptions. _Ever_."

"But…but…" Harry said, hand held to scar.

"No, no. There is no other explanation. Whatever _you_ are and whatever happened at Godric's Hollow, Harry Potter died that night."


	45. Chapter 45: Answers

**AEU Chapter 45: Answers**

Harry ran through the corridors, oblivious to the world.

* * *

"What are you doing Tom?" Humphrey ran into him on the stairs.

"I am through with you and Dumbledore both! I will not sit here and be scrutinised for the sake of that boy. Tell me, did you ever desire me to actually reform or where you simply taking me in for his sake?"

Humphrey was silent.

"I have all that I need. The deal's off. You can try and stop me if you wish, I don't care. I'm not going after your precious Ministry or the Muggles though so I don't know why you'd bother. Now get out of my way!" Riddle stormed past.

"You may come to regret this," Humphrey murmured quietly, watching him go. "So might I."

* * *

Harry kept running. Tears were blocking his vision but there was no time to stop. He had to know.

He had to know.

* * *

"Black!"

"Captain," Sirius said confusedly. "What are you doing? Where's Harry?"

"I think you should come with me."

* * *

He hadn't been to this place very often but his memory rarely failed him. And that thought brought fresh doubt and fear to his mind. Hopefully the man behind this door would give him the answers he needed.

* * *

"Professor?"

"What on earth is going on? Why is everyone running about the place like lunatics?"

"I wish I knew!" Sirius shouted back at McGonagall as he raced to keep up with Jericho. All he knew was that Harry was in danger.

The deputy headmistress frowned for a moment before heading off after them.

* * *

"Who's this? Ah, Harry. Do come-"

"Sir, I want you to tell me how to cast memories into that bowl thing and then I want you to look at them. And then you will answer my questions."

Dumbledore gazed at him from behind his desk, his eyes giving the impression, as they sometimes did, of boring straight through his skull.

"Very well Mr Potter," he said gently. "Listen closely."

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait, **STOP**!"

Jericho slowed.

"Thank you," Sirius gasped. "Now then, tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Harry spoke to Riddle."

"…"

Words failed to come from Sirius' open mouth. McGonagall caught up with them both and glared demandingly at the pair of them.

"Explain yourself Captain Jer-"

"WHAAAT!" Sirius screamed in Jericho's face. "WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING? What was _Harry_ thinking? Why…_WHY_?"

"He let him in. I was there the whole time and we learnt a great many things from him. And we got Harry's wand back," Jericho said, pulling it from his pocket.

"Harry wouldn't have let him in without asking me," Sirius said quietly. He knew his godson had enough respect for him for that.

"Can we please find him first before-"

Sirius' fist met the Raker's jaw in a crunch. Caught off guard, he fell back but quickly recovered enough to reach for his weapons.

"Sirius! Enough!" bellowed McGonagall, her demeanour brooking no argument from either man. "I don't know what's going on any better than you but I do know that we need to find Potter and quickly. He isn't strong enough to be wandering around yet."

"He ran out and disappeared Professor. I made sure Riddle left too before going after him. It was possible this was all a ploy just to get close to where he slept."

"Well whatever that creature's motives, they can't be good. But regardless, we must find Potter first."

"Dumbledore," Sirius said, his rage receding somewhat, "he'll have gone to find him."

"That's what I thought too, especially after what we both found out," Jericho said.

Sirius looked at him darkly, "Go on."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore returned to his office and, not for the first time, found himself gripping the sides of the pensieve for support after what he had just witnessed.

'_No…no. No, it's too soon. Oh Merlin, but it is too soon for this._"

Harry knew. He knew already, Dumbledore could see that by the way he was sat in his chair. Sat and looking at him.

Because he looked so betrayed.

There were times Dumbledore wished he had not been himself, that he had not been born so gifted, that he had not been driven enough to live up to every drop of potentially within himself. The worse part was, today was not even the worst time he had held responsibility he had no real wish for, purely because there was no one else to pass the mantle of responsibility to.

"You had questions," he said, sitting down across from his student, "but first may I-"

"No," Harry growled. Dumbledore looked at him in shock. "You will not offer me sweets, platitudes or assurances today. _You will tell the truth_ and answer me dammit!"

Before anything else could be said the door opened, spilling out McGonagall, Sirius and Jericho followed shortly after by Humphrey and Bartholomew.

"Do you all know?" Harry asked. Various answers came back so he waved them over to the pensieve, looking so on edge that they complied, worried at how close the child seemed to snapping.

Once they all finished viewing the memory, silence weighed down upon the room. Even Fawkes was uncharacteristically quiet.

"Alright," Harry said, leaning forwards, "tell me everything Headmaster."

Dumbledore sighed. "As you wish. There is much to explain and much guesswork involved on my part…but it began many years ago."

* * *

The study was dark when Albus finally returned to it. He took a calming breath before slowly walking around the room. How long had it been since he had sat in that chair? Lounged back and read his books? Did an experiment? Merely rested and enjoyed his beautiful office?

It had been a long night. But it seemed that dawn was swiftly coming. As he sat down at the desk that was filled with scribbles on tactics, half-written letters to parents (and too many letters soon to be given to unsuspecting new orphans), Albus spotted the sun, still hidden beneath the mountains, exerting its influence on the clouds above.

_'Pink sky in the morning…_' he aimlessly thought.

The war was over. That was what his message had been to everyone he had seen that night. From house to house, from the Ministry to the Prophet, from Westminster to Barcelona, he had spread word: The war was over. We had _won_.

Saying such things mere hours before, even from himself, an eternal optimist, would have been absurd. Yet Voldemort had fallen and…well, what now?

He wasn't head of a resistance movement that was slowly being picked off anymore for one, which was a weight off of his shoulders. No one had dared try to attack him which just made every other death feel even more like his responsibility. The Ministry was almost certainly going to go through a very large reshuffle and the wizarding world was going to go bananas in terms of celebrations.

That part didn't seem so bad.

However, not all was well. Too many death eaters weren't compromised enough by their war actions and would escape punishment. Many would even continue to reign in society and they must be watched most closely of all. And then there was the matter of the Potters.

The two last casualties (a morbid honour), James and Lily were dead. Somehow…Harry wasn't. Yet it shouldn't be so. Even Albus had been upfront about the chances of survival to all three of them; they took the chance anyway because they, like so many poor souls, trusted him far too much. As to who betrayed them in the first place, that was another matter entirely and he would certainly make sure that they at least were captured. But Harry was more important right now.

'It all comes back to the scar, the scar that should not be,' Albus thought.

He hadn't examined it much at all, save to clean it but it was clearly caused by the boy coming into contact with the killing curse. The very idea of that happening and yet a child surviving was ludicrous in his opinion, even if stranger things might appear to have happened. The hospital and the Ministry were out in terms of examining the baby; even if Dumbledore could be certain no one involved was a death eater Harry would still be stripped down by the Unspeakables if given half a chance.

So what to do? What was going on? Dumbledore found he did not have even close to an answer and almost no one he could trust on the matter who was also knowledgeable enough to help.

Except…maybe one.

He checked his watch. It was late, or rather, far too early for him to continue avoiding sleep but this task he set for himself. If his worst fears about the boy came to pass, then not only would he never forgive himself but the world would fall into a new darkness that it would take far longer to emerge from.

* * *

"And that is the whole of it, Nicholas."

Dumbledore finished his piece and leaned back in his chair. The figure across from him considered his words carefully.

"What do you intend to do?"

"Harry must go to his aunt's house, under blood enchantments. Nothing less will ease my anxiety and…I must be sure he is safe whilst I look for alternative places."

"And for what happened that night."

"Yes."

The other man sighed deeply. His young friend always brought such delightful puzzles for him to solve but this was far more than dabbling with dragon's blood or time turners. This was a young boy's life and the future of the wizarding world they were talking about.

"Very well. Do as you propose. Assign a watch over the child and monitor his development. There is nothing to be done yet, we have no data to go on. I can tell you this however-" he said when Dumbledore looked as if he might interrupt, "that boy has been drastically altered by his experiences. He almost certainly did die at the hands of this Voldemort fellow but if he did I have no idea why he came back. I also don't know why he has a scar or what happened when the curse integrated with his body but again, I can say that it was a very powerful reaction to have utterly destroyed the front of the house, killed the caster's body and made the curse leave such a mark on him."

"Killed the body?" Dumbledore repeated. "How do you know he isn't dead?"

"Because my friend, you never said he was," Nick said with a smile. "I have lived a long time and know when to read between the spaces people unconsciously leave. You don't believe him to be gone and the situation being what it is, you are right to not assume anything. Nothing appears to be simply here."

"Thank you for your time my friend," the headmaster said gratefully, getting to his feet.

"Always my dear boy," Nicholas Flamel said. "You know you are as welcome here as I am in your Hogwarts. You always were a good student. Keep me updated on the whole thing. I need a new interest now I've finished my latest project."

"I will."

* * *

Fawkes was one of Dumbledore's closest allies and confidants, yet the phoenix also made him rather melancholy. That scarlet plumage, fresh as the day he first arrived, now seemed too bright against Albus' hair and skin. He was so old now that even grey was too much colour for his hair to hold. For Fawkes however, and for Flamel, age was not a concept that touched them.

Both were now studying him with concern.

"It's quite alright, really," Dumbledore said, waving away their gaze.

"Indeed," Flamel murmured, unconvinced. It had been some time since Albus had called about this particular problem but if anything it had become more important.

"There is nothing that can be done for them. Lestrange was as brutal as she ever was."

"I see," Nicholas said softly. He was no longer truly saddened by death after centuries of heartbreak but what those two people had been put through was far worse than the most painful death. But Dumbledore would blame himself, as ever and would attempt to move on.

"Harry is safe where he is…though I wish it were not the only solution. Those people…prove hatred and prejudice can be present anywhere."

"It is remarkable really, what humans can come up with to satisfy their inner fears," Flamel replied. "Just keep him safe Albus. This is going to be a waiting game."

* * *

"Harry is still alive, still magical and still healthy, insomuch as we can tell. His scar is still present though doesn't seem to cause any trouble to him. Whilst I can certainly keep a closer eye at him at Hogwarts…"

"There's not much else you can do. Hmm," Flamel finished. "This is most curious. Since we spoke last on this I've been busy figuring out a way of specifically examining the boy."

"Did you figure something out?" Dumbledore said, his eyebrows raised hopefully.

"In a way. Making a very detailed spell or device that would brute force the solution out to us by just looking for everything within him would be relatively simple but so…unrefined. Potential inaccuracies are probable. I propose we use this method," Flamel slid over a piece of parchment.

"This requires a scan of Voldemort's essence," Dumbledore said, his tone of voice full of curiosity rather than concern.

"I'm sure you'll think of something. Since we know he's definitely not dead."

"I have a few ideas. Perhaps you can help me again?"

"Go on."

"As you know, there is much speculation on where you keep the stone."

Flamel grinned. "There is."

"I suggest we make it seem like it's at Gringotts, move it to Hogwarts in a manner ostentatious enough to be noticed but not too much out of character for me, then set a trap for Voldemort."

"Hmm. To deliberately invite evil into your school does not seem wise Albus…but if you take proper precaution, I can create a facsimile stone for you. Note that the magical signature from it will decay over time. I'm not sure where you might get something of equal power to keep at Hogwarts," Flamel said, suddenly occupied by Dumbledore's right sleeve.

"I expect I shall manage," Dumbledore said lightly. The stone was an incredibly powerful object and thus lit up like a beacon to anyone trying to find it. If the fake stone's power waned over time, Dumbledore felt sure he could find something to replace it by the time Voldemort came looking.

"I'm sure you will. Remember Albus, the stone is pure temptation. Just a whiff of its presence drives men to ruin trying to get it and, once possessed, they fall forever."

Dumbledore nodded. Nicholas, by his own admission, probably wasn't the first to achieve a perfect philosopher's stone but he was the first and possibly last being to master it. Dumbledore admired that more than the act of creation. He knew from personal experience what lust certain objects could conjure in the hearts of people, even those who thought themselves wiser and better. His fingers closed unconsciously around his wand.

"Thank you again for your aid Nicholas," he said warmly.

"Of course dear boy, you are welcome. Keep me informed as always. And keep an eye on the boy. I've heard…but perhaps it's nothing," Flamel tailed off.

"What?" Dumbledore frowned.

"There are whispers from my ward that indicate…I'm not sure…_something_ is coming. There are three Enlightened active in the world and _two_ natural possibilities have occurred. With Voldemort's wraith and Harry's return to the wizarding world…none of this is a coincidence. Mind how you tread, my friend."

"I shall," Dumbledore said, feeling the long forgotten sensation of unease resurfacing within him. Nicholas was one of the few people left alive who could have that effect on him and he would certainly consider his warning carefully.

He was not yet too old for the world to surprise him.

* * *

"So you let Voldemort in."

"I did Harry. Because we didn't know what you were. What you had become…or what you were going to be," Dumbledore replied sombrely.

Harry nodded, continuing to stare at the old man. "Did you find out?"

* * *

Dumbledore was once again walking through Flamel's lab (well, his favourite one anyway). The House Elves parted as he strode towards their master, who was busy at a workbench.

"Take a seat Albus, I'll be with you momentarily," Nicholas said, waving his friend to a chair without taking his eyes from his work.

Dumbledore looked on, fascinated. A marble was within Flamel's hands. Then it wasn't. Then it was again. Flamel's finger twitched and the marble spasmed, its surface rippling and bloating out in some areas. Flamel sighed and tossed the ball aside.

"Trouble with work?"

"An irritation of my own making. I do hate it when I do that."

Dumbledore nodded, pretending to have a clue as to what his friend was just doing. Flamel saw his expression and smiled.

"Albus, pay it no mind. What brings you here?"

"He tried to steal it."

Nicholas was suddenly all business. "Very good. What happened?"

"Voldemort passed through all the enchantments and spent a significant time in the main chamber with the mirror. The scan of him is as detailed as it can be through the possessed body. He also removed himself from the body and I have scans of his true form as well."

"And Harry?"

"Since he wanted to go with us to apprehend him regardless, I decided it would be best to have him come so he could be scanned as well. Voldemort actually passed over Harry when he retreated out of the castle, so we have a direct comparison shot."

"Marvellous, though terribly risky of you Albus," Nicholas said, frowning. "Is he alright?"

"I think so. He did react negatively to being so close to Voldemort, specifically his scar was very painful."

"Interesting. That certainly points to an extremely close connection.

"But what does it all mean?"

The alchemy master leaned back into his chair in thought. "I am unsure. You say he was in pain after coming into proximity?" Dumbledore nodded. "And that it was localised in his scar? Exactly there, nowhere else?" Dumbledore again said it was so.

"What are you thinking Nicholas?" Albus asked, worried about what the answer might be.

"…point of contact…two repelling…so the same?...of a kind?...no, no, no, but we would have seen that…"

Dumbledore coughed. His old teacher had developed the habit of giving speech to his thoughts, presumably because his mind was quite full as it was.

"Forgive me. It is clear that this shade of Voldemort and Harry are, in some way, of the same make. I actually…don't know how to describe it in language but…if it were not for our readings and constant observation I would say that Harry is a biological Horcrux."

Dumbledore's breath released through his teeth. "But?" he begged, hoping beyond hope that it were not so. For if the boy was holding Tom to life then…

"I don't believe it," Nicholas said firmly. "There is no way both of us could have missed that. It's more like Harry and Voldemort are different versions of the same person."

"Is that not how horcruxes work?" Dumbledore asked, puzzled. "A wizard creates a copy of their mind as it is at the moment of creation and-"

"Yes and the Horcrux is constantly updated with new knowledge from the creator. Should the creator die, their consciousness is transferred to the most complete copy of themselves, usually the first Horcrux they have made for it is the most stable and magically powerful. This is all correct but it is not what has happened here. I think that when Voldemort came to the Hollow, he succeeded in killing the child with his curse. Whatever magic you performed to protect him only meant that the curse rebounded back in a weakened form, killing most of Voldemort. It wasn't enough to activate the Horcrux transfer but more than enough to ruin his body. Hence the shade, though do not take that part as concrete…I am still unsure as to how that happened."

Dumbledore groaned and held a hand to his face, "And Voldemort was planning to make his last Horcrux with Harry's death. He had already completed the preparations."

"Precisely. At the moment of Harry's death, Voldemort created a copy of himself, only to almost immediately be destroyed. With no guidance or control, the copy construct simply drew naturally towards the most powerful magical source in the room that remained."

"Not Lily?"

"Not Lily. She had been dead for minutes and her magic was gone. Harry's body had been dead for less than a second or thereabouts remember. So it grafted onto the corpse. And what do Horcruxes do to the object they inhibit?"

Understanding dawned in Dumbledore's eyes, "They repair and maintain."

"Hence the inherent danger of biological soul carriers. Hence why Harry continues to exist free of Voldemort. 'Harry Potter' might have died that night in terms of the conscious being but Voldemort's magic brought the body back to life. The child is a combination of what remained of both of them. Mind you, I'm still not clear on one or two things. I'll run some more tests, now I know what to look for and I suggest you take care of that child. Whatever he is, he is his own person and most certainly unique."

* * *

The room was silent when the last memory finished playing out. Fawkes, whose very presence was music to his audience, had left. Harry looked at the old man across the desk from him. Dumbledore looked back.

"So…so…" Harry struggled to formulate any response. They all did.

What could you say to that?

'_In the end, even my own identity, my mind, my gifts, my soul and my body are not my own. I am less than a stranger in my own head,_' Harry thought.

"We have been able to figure out recently what caused the divergence between what happened with you and what normally happens with a biological Horcrux. Tom Riddle went through a few similar things whilst gaining his sentience. It's why I let him in. To help you."

At that Harry's temper awoke. "YOU. HAD. NO. RIGHT. TO KEEP THIS FROM ME! I-" but he caught himself before saying anymore, visibly struggling for control. "What…did you find out?"

"The copy of Voldemort had fixed your brain. Preserved your magic. A wizard's consciousness and memories are not just stored in the head but in his magic also. That is how horcruxes can even operate. That is how we cast memories into jars and paintings. Harry Potter, the boy who died, merged and warped and changed and regenerated with Voldemort's own essence. You are…well, you are a product of the two. You have his capacity for control, for handling pain and possibly also his bunted emotional depths. You have also James' flying instincts. Lily's passion, for good and for ill." Dumbledore's weak stab at humour failed to land on anyone's face.

"I am then…myself?" Harry said, immediately annoyed at how stupid the question sounded. But he had to know.

"Yes. You are your own person, your own man. Neither Potter nor Riddle. Yours."

Harry felt a rush of warmth despite himself. '_Thank God. Thank God,_' he couldn't help but think. He slumped in his chair in relief. Then immediately surged back up again and recalled exactly what this man had kept from him.

"Harry please-"

"You treated me like an _experiment_. Every single thing you have ever done that I once thought was out of benevolence was really just to enhance that. You did not trust me with my own identity. What was it Dumbledore? Afraid to see Voldemort within me? Were you also planning on ways to kill me? Kill both of us?"

"Harry-" someone behind him tried to say.

"I'm not him Sirius," Harry said coldly. "You don't have a godson."

"Harry," Dumbledore looked at him, "It is my fault. Mine, that you were not told. No one else in this room knew. Do not punish Sirius for my crimes."

_Smack_.

Time slowed as reaction times were tested. Jericho moved forward but was grabbed by Sirius. Jericho elbowed him, causing Sirius to lunge for his wand and the captain for his gun.

Faster than either could blink, Mr Granger was between them, wrenching both their weapons away in a painful fashion. Both backed down.

Dumbledore blinked dazedly at the scene. His glasses fell and shattered onto the desk. His nose was hurting rather badly and seemed to be bleeding quite a lot. How had-?

And then he felt his beard being tugged downwards and with a cry he came face to face with a livid young boy.

"That is the last time you preach to me old man. If you dare to interfere with my life again, I will make you wish you were dead." With that, the boy left the room.

The silence, which before had been terrible, now became suffocating.

Sirius didn't even bother to hide his tears as he too abandoned the room.

Mr Granger marched Jericho out without another word.

McGonagall appeared to be in a state of shock at what had occurred. Gently, Humphrey took hold of her arm and disappeared, leaving Dumbledore alone in the quiet office.

He did not look up from his broken spectacles.

* * *

**Author's note: Having just seen the cursed child in London (2016), I can heartily recommend it. The script book doesn't do it justice but my word, Potter is back! I do consider it part of my canon but will refrain from referencing it too much. Such limited exposure of the real thing (at least for now) means that I can't in good conscience do so without making everyone feel left out. **

**So don't worry about that. Go watch it if you can. And have a lovely day!**


	46. Chapter 46: Relations and Blood

**AEU Chapter 46:**

"Back from your little excursion, Mr Potter?" the Hogwarts Matron said dryly as the boy slumped into his bed. She left her reproach at that, for which Harry was extremely thankful.

"Bollocks," he whispered with his head in his hands.

He had been ready to leave the hospital wing and re-join the school at large. Looking forward to it even. Now he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to leave his bed ever again. Dumbledore was untrustworthy at best, he had hurt Sirius badly by what he had said in the headmasters office and now thanks to the blowout from that, Jericho looked like he was about to get fired.

Harry was running out of people he trusted. He prayed to god that Ron and Hermione wouldn't pull anything on him during the next few days or he would lose it and probably end up here permanently.

"Harry?" Sirius was at the door but looked uncertain as to whether come in or run away. Just like that, Harry's fears about being a second Voldemort failed as his heart melted in sorrow for his godfather. This was a man that had suffered so much for him, taken him in when no one else would and loved him as a son. All Harry's walls were down at the moment and with his emotions unnaturally high for once, he decided to let Sirius see how much all that meant to him.

"Sirius," Harry's eyes welled up as he reached for the man. Needing no other invitation, Sirius rushed in and scooped up the boy into his arms.

"I don't care what you think you are, you're my boy, Harry Potter and nothing will change that," Sirius whispered to him as the pair sobbed and held each other.

Harry began talking, opening up for the first time about his life, about the Dursleys, about every hurt feeling and humiliation he suffered at their hands. In return, Black listened and consoled him. One day soon he would share his own childhood nightmares but this was Harry's time. Madam Pomfrey tactfully in her office whilst they created a closer bond together, each promising to never keep important secrets from the other. What happened in the office stayed unmentioned. For a few hours, none of that mattered.

Eventually the tears stopped and a peaceful silence came over the room. Pomfrey came and went, doing her nightly scan of the boy and telling both of them he was fit for class.

"Well that's one bit of good news," Harry smiled. "Do you think-?"

A knck at the door cut him off. "Might I come in?" Mr Granger said softly.

"Of course. How are you? How is-?"

"Captain Jericho will be taking a leave of absence in light of recent events," Mr Granger said neutrally. "Don't worry, I'm not going to throw the book at him, just force him to review his actions. You'll have your bodyguard back soon."

Harry felt more relief at that than expected. Whilst he still didn't like having a tail everywhere he went, Jericho had been a good instructor and friend to him. Sirius still didn't like him though, ironic really since he was the one who allowed him to be with Harry.

"Thanks Mr Granger. How are you?"

"I am well. Oh, my wife asked me to invite you both to dinner as soon as it's possible."

"Really? Thank you. Can we go Sirius?" Harry asked.

"Of course Harry," Sirius said quickly. "By the way," he added, turning to Bartholomew, "you never did say how she took finding out about all this." He gestured at the Raker armour.

"Hm, hah. Yes, well it was quite interesting actually. She said she always knew something was up. Apparently she recognised the look of a soldier from her own father. She was a little put out that I knew about magic and all that before Hermione came along but…what can I say? She's an amazing woman. We're fine, thanks for asking."

"That's nice," Harry said. He hadn't considered the possibility of Mrs Granger taking the news badly but he supposed it was reasonable. Then again, Mr Granger had good reasons for keeping his secrets. Unlike some people…

"But are you alright Harry?" Mr Granger asked, kneeling down to Harry's eye level.

"I will be. It was all too much, all at once but I needed to know. Sorry for uh…freaking out and stuff."

"Well that's the first time I've heard assaulting a senior citizen as stuff but then again, I was doing far worse things at your age," Mr Granger said. "Don't ask," he added darkly at Harry's questioning glance. "Let's just say I wasn't always Mr Granger and Eastern Europe was a hellish place a few years ago."

"Right…" Harry murmured confusedly. A sudden thought made him ask rather guiltily, "Did I hurt him much?"

"Physically? A little. He has a walking healing factory at his side constantly however. What you did to his heart…perhaps it was deserved perhaps it was not but he's not recovering from that anytime soon."

Sirius grunted. He had a lot of respect for the old man but sometimes he deserved a smack. He empathised with the headmaster about tough decision making however. War does that. Sirius himself had made many in the few years that he had been fighting that tortured him to this day. Decades of service to the side of what's good and right was going to wear on a person.

"I'm not sorry Sirius, not yet," Harry said quietly. Sirius nodded at that, he didn't judge Harry for that either.

"You may also want to know that Tom Riddle has left Hogwarts and withdrawn his support for our side," Bartholomew said. Harry sighed and leaned back into his pillows.

'Well that removes one complication only to create another.' "Any idea what his game is?" Harry asked aloud.

"None whatsoever. I'm sure someone else…" Mr Granger coughed, "might have a few ideas but really we don't know."

"Best to put it out of your mind Harry," Sirius reminded him. "You have school tomorrow remember."

"Hah, yeah," Harry smiled. "Oh wait, Remus! He still doesn't know!"

"I'll tell him," Sirius assured him. "Unless you want to…?" Harry shook his head and Sirius nodded.

"Well then, I wish you both a goodnight. Harry, Sirius," Mr Granger nodded at both and departed.

"Life just keeps getting more and more complicated," Harry observed.

Sirius laughed at that. "Hah, that it does my boy. That it does."

* * *

Severus Snape paced outside the Slytherin Common Room.

'Blast it, where was Dumbledore?' The old man had promised he would be here to help smooth things over. He had far more experience with these kinds of things and far more empathy than Severus could ever hope to have.

He had put it off too long. He was going to have to do this alone.

The problem was Draco Malfoy and what was to become of him. With his father dead and his mother soon to be imprisoned, the boy was alone in the world. His godparents were either dead or imprisoned. Whilst wealthy, Draco still needed a guardian and a place to stay.

Considering what the boy thought of his remaining family members, this was going to be difficult.

"Good evening Mr Malfoy. There's something we need to discuss…"

The youth turned and Snape was surprised to see the changes that had taken hold over him. All the arrogance and attitude had seeped from his face and bearing. Without that, there was little else holding him up. The child had seen his world shaken to its very core.

"Yes sir?" he asked quietly.

"Mr Malfoy, I apologise for the headmaster not being present but he has been bombarded by government owls," Snape lied smoothly. "Still, we must discuss you living arrangements for the coming years. You parents, their choices of godparents and all close family members are imprisoned or deceased. Thus we, that is to say, you, must make a decision as to who will look after you for the foreseeable future."

"My mother isn't coming out of prison, is she?" It wasn't a question, even though it was phrased as one. Snape shook his head.

"She isn't. Not until you have long left Hogwarts at least."

"…okay. What choices do I have?"

"Two members of the Black family, the Weasley-"

"No," Malfoy interrupted forcefully, almost causing Snape to smirk. Instead, he glared until the boy wilted.

"As I was saying, the two Black relatives are the closest, there are other pureblood families that are less so, such as the Weasleys or, if nothing can be sorted out, a ministerial orphanage."

Malfoy nodded. "I don't want to move in with Potter, if that's what you are saying. Who's the other Black relative?"

"You did not know of Andromeda Black, your mother's sister?" Snape said, not really surprised.

"No. What did she do, marry a mudblood?" Draco said jokingly, causing a terrible expression to come over Snape's face.

"Do not say that word again boy! And yes, she did. They live in the wizarding world however and are well respected."

"Not in my family's circle," Draco muttered, before nearly crying as he realised that those relationships his father had carefully fostered were now probably broken forever.

Snape curled his lip. It wasn't the best start but it was something. Malfoy might not know it but it would be better for him if he did go with Andromeda. Otherwise he might retain those attitudes that were rapidly becoming even more outdated and dangerous than they were before Riddle's return.

* * *

Tom Riddle was alone. It was a situation he relished.

No more fools surrounding him. No more tricks or lies. Just him, no wand, no resources. Just innate talent, his genius level intellect and some special tricks of his own.

With this he was going to take on the world.

With this, he was going to march on Azkaban.


End file.
